


Mortal

by SBlackmane



Series: Dragon In The Storm [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alduin has to learn how to be human, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Dragon Language, Elder Scrolls Lore, F/M, Human Alduin, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I would advise not reading unless you've completed Skyrim's main quest, Mortal Alduin, Past Character Death, Post Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Rebirth, Second Chances, Spoilers, The Author Regrets Nothing, Thu'um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-08 14:12:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12866199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBlackmane/pseuds/SBlackmane
Summary: Cast out of the Aurbis, and into a new realm, the likes of which he's never seen...and trapped in ahumanbody...Alduin is beset with a task. Serve the one called Herald of Andraste, in order to regain his immortal dragon form. The arrogant ancient dragon knows little of what he's been asked to do, and even less of the soft and demure woman destined to lead the Inquisition. But he knows he must learn to be human, if he is to have a chance at returning to his rightful form. And Brianna Trevelyan, along with her collection of friends, must teach the brooding devourer how to be...Mortal.





	1. Dragon In The Storm

**Author's Note:**

> [Dragon Language is courtesy of Thuum.org, is subject to change. Translations will be provided in end notes.]

**Dov Ko Faal Strun-Dragon In The Storm**

The voices rang out in the darkness...who they belonged to was not known among mankind...but to the dragon that heard them, they sounded quite familiar, too familiar.

Too much like a mortal's sword through the heart, of which the dragon remembered all too well...too much like the cry heard from the depths of Oblivion, lashing out like knives...too much like the taste of mortality, aching, weighing on his soul, that he had learned, though had yet to fully comprehend...too much like the accursed Shout crafted to weaken him. The memory of it like a blade in the dark...The voices just as despairing to his ears.

_You went against your purpose, Alduin..._ spoke the voices as they slowly melded into one... _Your own doing has led you here. Your pride has ended you. Admit defeat._  
   
He roared, though his voice was lost to him; shapeless, formless, nothing more than a whisper to the dark, his breath lost, lungs empty. Though he struggled against it, he could not fight the darkness that swallowed him up. This was not Oblivion, not some hell to drown in, not anything like the unforgiving lands waiting for a mortal's soul so chained to the Daedra, nor was it Mundus, the mortal plane that he was destined to consume.

This was the absence of Time. A place unlike any other.

He'd been here before. Upon being swallowed up by the _Kel_. The Elder Scroll.  
   
These were the words of Time himself, though they made no sound that one could hear, but inside the dragon's own mind, a mind of which he was slowly losing the sound...like the sound of the wind rushing by, or water trickling in a stream. Driving him mad. The sound rang with truth he didn't want to hear. This was meant to be his death. As the voice reminded, this was his defeat.  
   
_But this is not the end of you_ , World-Eater, spoke the voice. _For the moment, you will live on. And now you will truly know the agony of those you thought to enslave. You will be one with the body you sought to claim. You will feel their pain, their sorrow...their loss...all that the joor can feel, that you could not, until there is nothing left to feel...And at the end...Dinoksetiid...only then, will you eat again..._  
   
Suffer as mortals did, for all eternity?...Was this the fate of the World-Eater?...Then let it come. Forever was merely a blink of an eye for one such as he.  
   
_But if you seek redemption, World-Eater...Mulhaan hin kah...Aam faal Qolaas...Hin suleyk, hin sahrot, hin su'um kos ni fah thur...nunon fah daar zeymahzin. Hin midrot unslaad, ahrk hin zahrahmiik fah zin ahrk moro wah fin Qolaas. Ahrk ko daar fent hi kos vahzah..._  
  
His native tongue recited like a hymn, or perhaps an incantation. And at such words, the World Devourer fell, released, it seemed from this Untime. Through a portal he fell, to which he knew not where.  
   
Then he fell from the sky, the whiteness blinding him, before it darkened once more, as the cry left his throat, shrouding him in shadows. His wings outstretched, but he could not fly. He realized as he fell, that the cripple of mortality, for him, would also mean the crippling of flight. Molten rock cascaded from the heavens in his pain... _pain?_...Was 'pain' the word he should use for such a thing?...The devourer knew not pain.  
   
Only the unholy feel of weakness brought by Dragonrend. The unnatural feel of...mortality. In horror he roared, his Shout calling upon a tempest, and the sky blackened as his body twisted, writhing on the ground, in the crater where he landed...twisted and molded into nothing of what he was before...but perhaps what he would call a nightmare...If he had ever slept in his lifespan...  
   
Alduin's body took that of a man's.

* * *

The elf watched as the firestorm fell in the distance. Somewhere, over the Frostbacks, the sky darkened with thick black clouds. Clouds that swirled in cyclone form with amber tones that meant fire. Though how fire could be falling from the sky was a mystery. A strange magic. Lightening struck, a deep violet in color, and burning rocks fell, creating bursts and streams of golden hue to contrast the dark.  
   
As if the stars were falling in the distance, from the heavens, down to Thedas. An eerie sight to see.  
   
All was calm that evening in Haven; people turning in, done for the day, and sentries setting up for their nightly post. Soon, the royal blue fuzed with gold in the heavens above would turn to black, and match the scene in the distance. The elf who watched the specticle from his perch, Solas, he was called, could only stare, mesmerized by the occurance. He was the only one to see it, for the others were too preoccupied with other matters.  
   
"What has your attention, friend?" a voice asked, causing him to look down, and then leap down from where he was perched atop the stone wall behind him. A human woman about his height, with flaming red hair, freckles, and sparkling green eyes, joined him in watching the sunset.  
   
It was Lady Trevelyan, so dubbed the Herald of Andraste to some, believing she was sent by the Maker and his bride, for the mark she possessed in her hand. The sole survivor of the explosion at the Conclave, an act that had shaken her world. A friendly, and curious sort, who, though she was no mage, was drawn in to Solas' talks of the Fade, and his dreams of the world in its true, beautiful form.  
   
Though she claimed to have been Andrastian, followed Chantry teaching like her family, she didn't view mages as evil, and twisted. At least, not all mages. But she was an objective, open-minded individual. Much like Sister Leliana, she was rather liberal in that area of politics. A kindred spirit to him, and he was beginning to think of her truly as a friend. He looked back up at the sky. The firestorm was already gone.  
   
"Curiosity got the better of me. I could have sworn I saw a dragon," he answered.  
   
Brianna chuckled at his erronious statement.  
   
"Oh, I don't want to hear _that_ at a time like this," she said to him, shaking her head. "We have enough troubles at the moment, without adding dragons to the list." She sighed. "I'm to leave to meet with the Lord Seeker at Therinfal Redoubt in the morrow. Cullen thinks we might have a better chance at persuading them to help us close the Breach. Josephine's contacts have agreed to meet us there and aid in the negotiation. Though I think waving nobility in the Lord Seeker's face is rather petty, but perhaps we'll find more Templars like-minded with Cullen's stance, and..."  
   
She trailed off, obviously not wanting to continue her ruminations aloud. Seemingly embarrassed with herself. She was still rather shy, and after what she'd experienced she still kept herself guarded on occasion.  
   
"So you do indeed think Enchantress Fiona's invitation was a trap?...You will not seek the mages' assistance instead?"  
   
Solas' questions were not judgmental, in fact, simply born of curiosity. He knew without a doubt that either mages or Templars were capable of providing enough power to aid the mark on Brianna's hand and close the Breach. Of that he was sure. And that was most important. Regardless of the path, he did not doubt the outcome. Though Brianna labored over the decision ultimately being hers to make, as the others were at an impasse.  
   
And no doubt she assumed he would be _offended_ by her neglect in choosing mages as an option, though in truth, he did not care. He cared more of the outcome of each choice, much more than the choice itself. The sooner the Breach was closed the better.  
   
"I don't think it will matter much _what_ we do," she relented. "I think it's perilous either way. I...I just..." She sighed once more, folding her arms, attempting to fight the sudden chill in the evening air. "Whatever it takes to seal the Breach should be our focus, but..."  
   
"You do not feel it to be your responsability," Solas remarked, and she nodded.  
   
"Exactly. I don't think the decision should be mine. But the others..." she sighed. "We should all make the decision together, collectively. Not I, not alone. Mere months ago, I was a prisoner, thought to be the culprit of all of this, and now...Now I'm responsable for an entirely new reason." Brianna's crimson locks fluttered in the breeze, and her features contorted into a grim expression. "It's a lot to process."  
   
"I'm afraid there is little I can say to console you on the matter." Solas lamented. "Each of us have our own paths to follow, Herald. But it is the journey's end that makes all the difference."  
   
She smiled a little at that, as she stared at the changing colors in the sky.  
   
"I always thought it was the other way around," she chuckled. "I can't argue with that logic, I suppose. Given the circumstances it makes perfect sense. Will you journey to Therinfal with me, tomorrow?" she asked. He nodded.  
   
"Of course, Herald," he said to her.  
   
She bowed a little before departing, as did he. How funny it was that one of her noble status would bow to an apostate with no title known, or recognized, by anyone in Thedas. That she would behave so cordially toward one who was but a nameless elf, yet another who offered aid to the Inquistion, and nothing more. But she was not without virtue. An individual worthy of respect. Whether she knew it to be true or not.

She would mostlikely retire to her bed, whereas he...he would stare at the sky once more. Confounded, for once, for he could not place the source of the storm that had raged in the distance, nor discern what sort of magic it was. This fact, above all else, irked him the most, and would no doubt keep him awake, for once, entertained by this world far more than that of the Fade.  
   
Though, he had not lied. He did swear to have seen a dragon in the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Joor-'mortals', 'mankind'.  
> Dinoksetiid-'End of Time'.  
> Mulhaan hin kah-'Still your pride'.  
> Aam faal Qolaas-'Serve the Harbinger'.
> 
> "Hin suleyk, hin sahrot, hin su'um kos ni fah thur...nunon fah daar zeymahzin. Hin midrot unslaad, ahrk hin zahrahmiik fah zin ahrk moro wah fin Qolaas. Ahrk ko daar fent hi kos vahzah..."  
> "Your strength, your might, your breath/spirit be not for tyranny...but for this companion. Your loyalty unending, and your sacrifice for honor and glory to the Harbinger. And in this shall you be true."


	2. And So It Begins

**Ahrk Ful Nii Kiin-And So It Begins**  
 

Alduin opened his eyes.  
   
His body felt heavy, weighted as though an infinite number of rocks crushed him, pinning him in place. He had no idea how much time had passed, no way of determining such, for he couldn't see the sun above him. Nothing but milky white sky. He still lay there, wherever it was that he had landed. Made no attempt to get up, for he knew that when he arose, he would struggle.  
   
He already struggled to breathe, and every bone in his body felt like fire...it _burned_. He'd never felt such sensations before. The way this human flesh tingled. And he was so weak. So frail, and this body felt in no way the same as his own. For he was no longer a dragon. A fact that he would lament over in the days to come. For he was no longer himself, and the reality hit him harder than this weighted form.  
   
He raised a limb to find a human hand extending from it. He struggled to believe it was truly there, but it was. It felt rubbery, lax, not quite like the webbing of a wing, but useless, as though it were without bone to extend. And this appendage was just as useless for flight as a broken wing.  
   
He touched the fingers together. Yes, they now belonged to him, though he struggled to comprehend the feel of flesh, compared to the stiffness of dragon hide. Such short, useless digits, unable to inhibit flight. His arm went limp and clunked on the ground, his chest tightening in despair. _Despair_...a feeling he had experienced before. Though a shadow of emotion, a shadow of frailty through Dragonrend.  
   
This form he possessed now was the true agony the Shout was meant to mimic.  
   
_Aam faal Qolaas_...Serve the Harbinger.  
   
The words swam in his mind. To serve another, a thought so inconceviable to one such as himself. He had served no one, save for his _own_ will, his _own_ desires. Perhaps that could be to blame for his undoing, but the world had bowed to his will, and his alone once... millennia ago.  
   
Though it had been but the blink of an eye as he sailed through the Untime before, passing through the eye of the needle, coming through to the other side, to a new world, one that had forgotten his glorious reign...the result of being banished through the _Kel_...And now he was forced to either die as a mortal man, or serve another, bow to another, as once, mankind bowed to him? And only then, through such humility, would he regain his dragon form?  
   
He sighed, and noticed that his new form was not without covering. Armor plated him, he realized, as he lifted his head to eye the rest of the body he possessed. A cruel irony that it was darkened scale armor, to remind him of his true form.  
   
"So you did not leave me defenseless. You do not mean for me to die here in this land...Not yet." He spoke the dragon tongue to no one at all, for he knew all forms of Akatosh had fled, abandoned him. He was alone. And how the Aedra must laugh in Aetherius at his misfortune. He didn't even recognize his own voice.

But yet, it did sound familiar, in a way. Curious of a sound.  
   
He attempted to sit up, pushing himself from the barren ground that he could feel scraping into him much too intensely, even with the armor. It did little to cushion the flesh. Lying next to him, the cruelest bit of humor to leave him cursing and growling under his breath, teeming in rage. A sword, a tool to be used by a weak and pitiful mortal that did not possess fangs or talons...A sword meant for him.  
   
Decorated with an emblem that made him curse at the top of his lungs, screaming at the sky.  
   
A _dragon_. A black dragon formed on the hilt, with ruby eyes to mock his own.  
   
He could end it right there. Take that putrid blade and ram it into his chest. There were no scales to blunt the act, the armor he wore a pale comparison to his rightful flesh, and the wound would be fatal. But he would...die. Again. And if he were to die like this...would he cease to exist? Did he still possess the soul of a dragon? Or was every part of him in no resemblance to what it once was?  
   
It dawned on him the likelyhood that he would in no way return to his dragon form, should he take his own life. The likeliest fate of all, that he would be bound in spirit to Time once more, swallowed up, just as the dragonslayer swallowed his kin, denied his destiny as the World-Eater to usher in a new era. For there was little reason to believe that the God of Time would sacrifice such power rewarded in that.  
   
The 'Gods' wanted Mundus, just as it was, and intended to keep it for themselves, unless he carried out their ultimatum.  
   
This was a test. As all things were.  
   
No, it seemed he was meant to live. _Slowly_...for time passed much slower to him now. He felt it already as he watched the clouds move in the sky. He blinked, and they still moved so slowly...inching by. What would have been a flinch, a fleck of time, a blink...was now an hour, perhaps more...and time stretched...just as it did for mortals he consumed.  
   
As fleeting as their lives were, the moment lingered for him now, an oddity, in the thought that he was one of them. A fully beautiful balance. A touch of irony to encapsulate his first day as a mortal man.  
   
He was meant to suffer like this...in _servitude_. How debasing. Tasked with searching for the being so called the Harbinger, if he wished to return to his true form. So be it. He hauled himself to his weak feet, failing to balance himself for lack of tail, and thin, misshapen frame. He spread his limbs a little further apart, struggling just to keep from falling over, extending his arms to counter the weight until he no longer felt his head swim.  
   
And how interesting that in that moment, he wished he had paid more attention to simple things, like how a mortal being can walk on its two wobbly legs, without wings stretched defiantly.  
   
Find the Harbinger he would then. He had a guess of what to look for. In true fashion, as he made mortals bow to his every whim as a dragon, and as mortals worshipped him as the Harbinger of Dinoksatiid...the End of Time...surely he would now serve a dragon in this pitiful sack of meat and bone. Such irony he was sure would be his fate.  
   
A fate that would mostlikely end in death. To serve a dragon's starved gullet.

* * *

Bri inhaled slowly, drawing back the bow as she did so. She was quite certain the arrow was knocked properly, the fletching facing the right direction this time. She adjusted her aim a little to the right of the target this try, the target a battered wooden shield, propped up against a tree. Exhaling, she loosed the arrow, sighing in disappointment as it sailed right past the shield, burying itself in the field beyond.  
   
Pitiful. Of all the things she learned in Ostwick, how to shoot a bow was not among those things. 'A proper lady of the Trevelyan family must not scrap like a dog', her mother had always told her.  
   
They were camped at Dusklight, an Inquisition outpost in the Hinterlands, having already travelled for days on end, it seemed, from where Haven was nestled in the Frostback Mountains. And they would travel days more, with little time to rest, if they planned to reach Therinfal within a fortnight.  
   
Bri had already exhausted herself most of the night before hand, trying to master the hunting bow in her possession, rather than rest, as she ought to have done. But it needed to be done. She was not going to simply rely on the skill of others to save her neck, not perminantly.  
   
Solas leaned against a rock near camp, saying nothing, but the humor at watching her antics made his eyes sparkle. He never judged her, but it didn't mean he didn't have an opinion in the back of that mind of his. Cassandra was still snoring in her tent that early in the morning, thankfully, but Varric was awake, and put his palm to his face when the arrow sailed past the shield.  
   
The problem was not the need of a new weapon, the problem was her. Not even Varric's advice could fix it.  
   
Dare say she would be worse with a sword, wouldn't she? At least she could carry a bow without it weighing her down. Either way, all she was doing at that present moment was stalling. She didn't want to lie down and rest, even though she knew full well how dark it was under her eyes, and how heavy her limbs felt from lack of sleep and pulling back the bowstring.  
   
It wasn't just her horrible lack of combat skill. It was the tension pulling at her gut. The foreboding feeling of a horrible outcome waiting at Therinfal. And...her dreams.  
   
Any given moment of sleep brought about strange dreams. They started a few days before. Dreams of roaring filling her ears, splitting pain as her limbs cracked, bones broke, her body twisted into something unfamiliar to her. She would have wings and a tail, black as night, and when they would break and split, replaced by human flesh, her heart would break for some reason.  
   
Weak, weighed down by a mortal form that couldn't fly, and it hurt. Blood would splatter on the dirt, smear, and drip from rocks, and the sky would turn black above her. Burning rocks would fall from the heavens, and in truth, it frightened her more than the ever present Breach that loomed over where the Temple of Sacred Ashes once stood.  
   
She had no idea what they meant.  
   
She would never tell the others of these dreams. Not Josephine, whom she had grown quite fond of, not Cullen...no, he had more important things to worry about at the moment...and certainly not Solas. None whom she had grown close to at Haven. She knew that every one of them would claim she was simply being foolish, or begin to think demons were plaguing her sleep.  
   
Though she couldn't help but feel that something, or someone, was out there. The person who roared in her ears in the dream, who spoke a language she didn't understand...Was it foolish to feel this way? It could very well just be a dream, and nothing more.  
   
And it mattered none when the Seeker rose from her tent, stretched her limbs, yawned, and fastened her sword to her hip. Bri's eyes lingered on the hilt for a moment. Would it be too much to ask the Seeker to teach her how to use a sword?...No, no, strike that thought from your mind. She would never let you live down the embarrassment...  
   
Soon enough the small band of Inquisition soldiers, and the 'Herald of Andraste', of course, were ready to depart, continuing on their journey. Saying very little, eyes open, as the road ahead would surely be wrought with danger. Bri suddenly wished they had chosen instead to travel with Josephine's contacts, in a bigger group, but there were rifts that needed closing to clear the way for safe travel.  
   
It was only right that the Herald of Andraste clear the way for them, correct?...Not only that, but deep down inside, Bri felt it was the only reason she was useful at all. The mark of eerie magic on her hand was the only thing that kept her from death, she was certain. And as long as it remained on her hand, irreversable, immovable...the weight was hers to bear. Even if she was nothing more than a slip of a girl from the Free Marches, rather than a soldier.  
   
She would have to suffice.


	3. Breath And Focus

**Su'um Ahrk Morah-Breath And Focus**

The first few days were as harsh as the snow fall. An aching in his belly that Alduin soon recognized as hunger. Though nothing in sight to stave it. He learned very quickly that a sword would do him no good to hunt, and though he had seen so many fantastical things in era past, he'd never seen a human successfully hunt with a greatsword. At least not efficiently, nor gracefully.

But he also soon realized that this human body was not incapable. Further down the mountain he descended, he happened upon a bear, and he slew it easily enough, though not before being swiped in the side with spiteful claws. When the bear toppled down upon him in its death, almost crushing him, pinning him down in the snow, smothering him...he hefted it off of him well enough, though the creature was three times his own size.

The  smell of raw flesh was perverse to his human snout, the stench making it wrinkle up in disgust of its own accord, for the hours to come that it took him to drag the wretched corpse further down the mountain, until he found a plateau on which he could rest without worry of sliding further down the icy slopes. He supposed if he were really opposed to eating the beast raw, he could find a means of cooking it.

He briefly wondered if the Aedra could see him from where they perched, and imagined that if they did, that they laughed at what he considered doing.

He  grumbled in dragon tongue under his breath as he snatched up the nape of the bear's neck and sawed away at the fur with the sword, revealing more of the stench of flesh, pink and oozing blood, already slowing in flow as it touched the freezing air. If not for the cold, the meat would surely have festered by now. Alduin carved out a slice of muscle, then sighed before whispering a word to it.

" _Yol_ ," he said quietly, by a miracle, producing a wisp of flames, from lip to meat, searing it with their intensity.

He  raised a brow. So the Thu'um was still his own to use. Even in this pitiful mortal state. So...he was still a dragon in spirit then. Not even death could take that from him. He bellowed in laughter at himself, as he was sure that the Aedra were now frowning at his discovery. He still had power. Some of it, at least.

He  leaned back against a crop of snow and chewed on bits of bear meat...

...He was certain that he had his fill, yet he was still weak, and wondered why. It wasn't until his eyes fluttered closed that he realized it was sleep consuming him. _Sleep_...he had _never_ needed sleep...and _dreams_...dreams he would _never_ wish for. For they were dreams of the one called Dovahkiin, that blasphemous cursed name it was...coming to Sovngarde to slay him.

They  were vivid, and felt as real as the snow under foot, the wind on his face.

He  had drunk in the power of the mortal souls that rested so easily in Shor's realm. Ate the souls of the dead to regain strength. He had been greedy with it, but not greedy enough, it seemed. It did not stop the dragon slayer from finding a way to him, rending him weak, along with the Tongues, through the power of the twisted Thu'um so called Dragonrend.

It did nothing to stop the Nord that stood before him in the flesh from ramming his sword into Alduin's heart. And this was what Alduin dreamed about. The gall of the creature, for he did not even know the tongue of which he spoke, did not understand the words, and the anguish they brought. Did not understand how the feel of it could rip Alduin's soul apart.

But  it could not kill him. For Alduin could not be killed. Only delayed. And as penance for defeat, he was now cursed with similar form of the Dovahkiin. Dragon but not dragon. In a body that could whither and perish. Until he found a winged, fire breathing creature, somewhere in this realm to serve.

He  refused to die now, in the snow, next to the shredded body of the brown bear, and the slow oozing stream of blood that trickled down beside him. He refused to die in a mortal form. For the first time in eons, Alduin would swallow his pride and serve another. For the sake of his own soul, however, and for no other reason. Not to become true and just, to repent, but for the sake of no longer having to suffer this body.

When  he woke from his dream, he felt weaker still. In no way replenished like he thought he would. But worse. His wound had still not healed, but if anything, only irritated him further. Yet still he wandered down the mountain. Taking only a strip of meat to chew, and leaving the bear for whatever manner of creature might happen upon it. Cursing the way this new body ached.

* * *

Brianna  Trevelyan had been right. And she hated being right, especially at a time like this, when it meant that the sinking feeling in her gut that something awful would happen, _did_ happen.

Numerous  times she thought she would die. After surviving the Conclave she had been certain Cassandra would gut her right there in the cell she was chained in. Making their way back to the ruins of the Temple, she was certain every moment along the way she'd be swallowed up by demons from the Fade.

And  when she reached the tear in the Veil, the Breach, she was certain she'd never live through it, certain she'd either be swallowed up by the pride demon that stepped out of it, or by the Breach itself. But she wasn't. Since fighting for the Inquisition, so many things tried to kill her, but by some manner of luck, they failed.

And  while whatever manner of luck spared her life before, surely there was no luck left this time, as she faced down the demon in front of her that had corrupted the Lord Seeker, taking his form, taking his place, and meant to take hers as well. They called it an envy demon, for it was envious of another, always, and never satisfied until it consumed another, took its place, and had all that it had, however material or emotional, it did not matter. The need was endless.

This  demon orchestrated all the strange events at Therinfal, as far as Bri knew, and she would never be able to return to the keep if she didn't get it out of her head. And there she was, she realized, inside her own head, _trapped_ was the better word, along with said demon.

Upon  arriving at the Templar stronghold, she knew something strange was afoot. Unlike he promised, the Lord Seeker was not there in person to meet with her and the Orlesian diplomat, Lord Abernache, that agreed to speak for ten noble houses in Orlais, to pressure him to lend the Templars to the Inquisition and close the Breach.

First , it turned out the Seeker never planned to grant them an audience...then, it turned out it wasn't even the real Lord Seeker at all, but a demon, who meant to capture the Herald of Andraste for a being called the Elder One, whom it served.

Bri  and the others were forced to fight the Templars themselves, as they had been corrupted by being force fed a substance called Red Lyrium, a perverted version of the sirum they ingested to repel magic. The same substance that was found at the Temple of Sacred Ashes after the explosion, and Bri wondered if the two were connected. If not for Solas so valiantly stepping between her and a Knight Templar, casting a protective magical barrier upon them, she would be dead already.

Luck , not her own bravery, yet again. But what good did it do now, when she was trapped in her own head, and Solas was nowhere to be found? She could hear the demon's raspy throat around every turn, down every corridor in the recesses of her mind. Images of what the demon would do to her allies once it retained her form sprung up around her, taunting her.

She  kept going forward, for she certainly couldn't go back, until she came upon a dead end. It was then that she realized she and the demon weren't the only ones in her head. There was a third, but was it friend or foe?

It  looked like a bedroom, _her_ room, to be honest, where she found herself locked inside, too frightened to go back out, shaking, raggedly breathing. Her nails dug into her palms, and it felt like the walls were closing in on her. The way they moved, waning in the unnatural firelight from the hearth. She wanted to cry...until she heard a soft voice. It wasn't the demon's voice. It was new. And it's name was Cole.

He  was upside down at first, standing on the ceiling, until he disappeared and reappeared upright on the bed, legs folded underneath of him, hiding blonde hair and round saucer eyes under a wide brimmed hat. Tall and spindly, a lanky fellow, who looked no older than her. No wise old man with grey hair and a stern voice to come then? And scold her for being a coward? Just a boy?

Or  was 'young child' simply the form that this creature currently took, and it was really the envy demon after all? She wasn't certain, but the creature had yet to attack her. Instead, it told her how to get out, and since she had no other options at the moment, for never had she heard of a normal person such as herself needing to get out of their own head, she followed Cole's instruction.

Well, truth be told, she wasn't exactly normal anymore, was she? And neither was this situation any sort of normal.

Cole could hear the demon's thoughts though. This much he revealed. That he could feel, or hear, but somehow know what it was the demon wanted. He knew what made the demon tick. The way through her own mind was like a maze, but Cole instructed her that the more she discovered in her own mind, the harder it would be for the demon to possess her.

The  more rooms she entered, the greater the space, and the harder for the demon to learn of her...It made no sense, not really, but as she reached more rooms, opened more doors, freeing more space in her mind, the more the demon screamed in her head. She swallowed hard in her fear, the screaming getting louder, piercing her thoughts, until Cole took her by the hand.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered, pointing to the end of the last hall, where through the door would be a courtyard. Out there it was harder to breathe, harder to see, but it was slowly fading when she rounded up the steps, the appearance of things taking shape and form of Therinfal Keep, where her body lay at the top of the stairs. All was as it seemed to be before she had been captured within her own mind, but for one thing...

In  the distance, fire rained down from the heavens, just like in her dream, and a dragon was burning the world with its mighty roar.

In  a cry of anguish she awoke, to find Cole standing there, pulling her to her feet.

So  he wasn't the demon after all. No, the demon was waiting in the Chapel, barricaded within, where the last of the uncorrupted Templars were trying to break the seal with their power, one of those being Sir Barris, who, for all intents and purposes, was the current Captain of the Templars, with no one else present that outranked him.

He  pleaded with Bri and her followers to find any stashes of uncorrupted Lyrium, and any uncorrupted lieutenants that might be cornered somewhere away from the main hall. Bri obliged the request, and hurriedly ran off with Solas, Cassandra, and Varric close behind, scrunching her face up in anger.  _'Don't be afraid'_ , Cole had told her.

But  deep down she was still afraid. A coward. A pathetic coward that couldn't fight her own battles. Weak and frail. If she were to succeed on this day...would there ever be a day that she would not live in fear and doubt?

Dammit . Dammit to pieces that it was her of all people to come out of the Conclave alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Yol-'fire'.


	4. Season Unending

**Evgir Unslaad-Season Unending**

When the snow storm had passed, Alduin was more certain than ever that he was no longer on Nirn. He recognized no constellation in the night sky, and the great white orbs, a pairing of moons, Masser and little Sacunda...were gone. In their place, different stars and moons entirely. His spirit grew heavy.  
   
How many days had it been, now? And not a soul in sight, save for his own, and the twinkling sky up above that did not belong to him. He lived by the stars. And how it angered him that he did not know what these stars foretold. He could not see the great stories written in this blanket of light, though it shined brightly.  
   
But he was away from the mountain behind him, and in the wake of clear skies, he saw something else worthy of a world devourer's attention.  
   
A swirling green light in the distance. He could feel it, though it was unlike any arcane power in Mundus, and he could not name it. It was new. He could guess that this power was not natural to this world. Or any world, for that matter. It did not belong, and he wondered why. It brought about curiosity on his part. He wondered if it was connected to the messenger he sought.  
   
The valley he trudged through was just as covered in snow as the mountain, fluffs of it were picked up by small gusts of wind every so often, flakes of it left behind in the wake of the blizzard days before. On the day that he saw the green light in the distance, he no longer felt stinging on his skin from the snow.  
   
He did not know the meaning of it, but his body was becoming numb, it seemed, out there in the cold. It was as if it adapted to the weather, like the brute Nords of Tamriel. And the night...the evenings in that place...dark, quiet... _lonely_. Though he did not know that loneliness could... _hurt_. He'd never felt such a thing before. Was it something humans felt?  
   
He wondered what this place was called. Wondered if this land knew that there was another. A land that mortals called Tamriel. And Akavir, the birthplace of the dov. He wondered if he was still in Mundus, or another plane. It was likely he was in another. Some place far from his own, for why else would the God of Time conspire with the Aedra to send him there?  
   
They had probably assumed that he would be too noble in nature to lower himself to serve another, even if it meant restoring his form, but knew that since they could not take his Thu'um, he would still rule over Nirn once the Dovahkiin was slain, or otherwise died a grey haired old man. And at a chance that he would serve another and regain his dragon form, they cursed him to a land that was far from that of Mundus.

A barren, snow-ridden wasteland of nothingness, to preserve the mortal realm they jealously guarded.  
   
He did not care what the mortal-loving 'gods' wanted...He only wanted to fly again. Feel the wind rush, as his wings flapped, to hear the sound, feel his tail behind him...He wanted...to feel...feel _something_...but what?...What was his soul longing for, that he could not name?...For lately, it was simply that he missed his true form...But was there not something else, somewhere in the back of his mind, something he could not name?  
   
...At one point in his traveling, the green light in the distance flared, crackled, the echo of it carrying itself all the way to Alduin's human ears. The very sound of it deafening, the light growing white, blinding him for a moment, and then it disappeared. He was curious of it. He could not fathom the meaning.  
   
Perhaps it was the Harbinger he searched for, making their arrival known, coming through the green portal in a flurry of wings and snarling teeth, and just as he searched the sky, so the dragon would be seen flapping its mighty wings, searching for him. He wasn't sure. He had no choice but to continue on, however, for he was hungry again, and feeling the lull of sleep once more, feet beginning to drag...and he longed for this to be over...  
   
...It was bitter cold he found himself wandering in, as the sun had yet to rise, but there was a sound in the distance that was not lost on him. Men...Mer...mortals of some kind, shouting, though as for the reason, he couldn't guess, not without further inspection. It seemed he was not alone in this valley after all.  
   
He came up over the rise of the hill, and looked down, casting his gaze on the valley below. There were lights, centered around what looked like a village; torches, campfires, people shouting and... _singing_. Celebrating, it seemed.  
   
He did not know why they celebrated, but the celebration was short lived. Bells rang in the village, a signal, one that meant an enemy approached, and a horn sounded. He looked up, expecting to see a dragon, his mind flashing to the memory of first waking from the Untime, coming out into the light to see a world that had changed, grew different from the one he remembered, seeing a village below, finding renewed strength...lighting it aflame...Mortals called it Helgen.  
   
There was no dragon, but atop the peak to his right, he could see torches, slowly cascading down the mountain to the valley below, headed toward the village, he presumed.  
   
War it was. Mortals coming to attack this small village, no concern of his. They carried sticks...staves...wielded magic of some kind? Like many that served him on Nirn, though with closer inspection, he could see and smell how their bodies were tainted by something, some arcane power, red crystals. That was intruiging.  
   
There was no dragon, no reason to get involved. It was not his task to scrap with humans, but to serve the Harbinger. Though he could wait patiently, leaned against the tree behind him, for the fighting to cease, and scavange the remains of the village for food perhaps.  
   
He leaned back and watched the enemy force march across the frozen lake, right up to the village, head on. He found himself more amused by it than he thought he would be. The way they marched meant they were confident that their larger number would overcome, as they cornered the small force cowering behind the walls. That was their first mistake.  
   
As they were marching across the lake, they gave away their position, giving the villagers plenty of time to prepare, gathering their unarmed occupants at the far end, in a large hall, the most fortified building. It looked like a temple, made of good, strong, stone walls. This also led to the enemy's second mistake. Leaving them exposed to the archers and catapults that fired burning rocks, flaming arrows, staggering the legion.  
   
But they did not retreat. They simply kept advancing, unrelenting. The red crystals mostlikely poisoning their minds, their senses, keeping them from acting rationally, marching headfirst into the frey.  
   
The third mistake, not retreating. Not allowing themselves enough time to escape the blast when the catapults redirected their aim to the mountain in the south, a few degrees from Alduin's perch as the spectator. He watched the amunition surge into the mountain, and in the blast, while the avalanche of snow and ice buried the soldiers, he noticed it...the sound that echoed through the valley. The sound he had been waiting for. The roar of a dragon.  
   
Just when he was starting to root for the quaint little village besieged by onslaught, it seemed the winged serpent had arrived, headed north, right for the battle below. The World Devourer felt a tinge of jealousy as he saw the great creature arc through the sky, circling, about to make its descent. It roared again, and an odd thing occured...a sudden realization. He could not understand what the dragon was saying.  
   
So he truly was in another realm. This Dov spoke a language foreign to him, but with expected outcome. Its words, though garbled in Alduin's mind, were powerful, its great Thu'um charring the village. It was then that Alduin left his perch. He would go to the dragon, prostrate himself before it, and his first task, and probably his last task, serving this dragon, would be offering himself as its food, if he could not share tinvaak with it.  
   
And laugh as he burst defiantly from the pit of the stomach in true form.  
   
...He trudged across the frozen lake riddled with bodies of the dead.  
   
Such lifeless eyes were staring their blank stares as they protruded from the blanket of snow. He stepped over them, seeing how detailed their features were. And how contorted, disturbed. Were the faces of men always so, for one such as the World-Eater?...He never remembered noticing the color of their eyes, the shapes of the knits of hair above each eye, the way their tiny noses bumped out of flesh with little holes in them.  
   
Their teeth, not all of them were white, but some of them...young, with straight, white teeth. Such were the faces of men? He turned his gaze away from them.  
   
The dragon landed in the village, and it wasn't alone. Though, he could not see from where he stood, meters away, standing on the lake, who or what it was that accompanied the dragon. Perhaps another that served it? Perhaps he could speak to this creature instead, and inform it that he meant to serve the dragon. He kept moving forward, the roar of the fires, and the voice he heard, getting louder.  
   
Slowly overpowering the sound of his own footsteps crunching on the snow, then the soft thud as he stepped over piles of ash and flecks of charred wood.  
   
Then there was another sound, as he neared the center of the village where the dragon stood, circling something in its step.  
   
A scream could be heard, piercing Alduin's ears, making...making his heart falter in his chest. That was... _strange_. Was this mortal body feeling pity for the pain of another mortal?...He drew ever nearer...A voice pairing with the whimpering of a human...a woman in pain. A voice that boomed...not a human voice...but spoke the human tongue, no less.  
   
He drew close enough to see just what this creature was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Evgir Unslaad, meaning 'season unending', is the ancient Nordic idiom for war.  
> Dov-'dragon'  
> Tinvaak-'speech/conversation'


	5. The Maiden Herald

**Faal Vahdin Qolaas-The Maiden Herald**  

Bri had managed to strike an alliance with the remaining Templars at Therinfal, and though they were fewer in number, they proved enough to aid in closing the Breach. For good, it seemed. And in turn, she had gained an unlikely ally in Cole, the spirit she discovered at the stronghold, who helped her stave off the envy demon trapped within her.  
   
He was kind, and wanted to help, though the villagers at Haven didn't trust him. They thought that he, too, was a demon from the Breach. Cassandra didn't know what to make of him. Neither did their advisers. But Solas had confirmed the likelihood of Cole existing outside of the Fade long before the Breach had been opened to Thedas. Something else caused him to manifest, and it made him less likely to be corrupted. More likely he was a spirit, but no demon.  
   
Bri didn't really care what he was, for he had helped her far more than any other at Therinfal, except for maybe Solas himself. As long as he proved to be of no threat to any in the village, the Inquisition's advisors allowed him to stay. For that, Bri was very grateful. She did not openly discuss how he could see into a person's mind, for she knew how paranoid that would make the others, but only let on that he somehow forced the envy demon from her own mind. It was enough that they knew he could be trusted.  
   
Cullen had been proud of her. She handled being thrust into such responsability quite well, he noted. Though it was only because she neglected to mention to him how frightened she had been. He was tall, handsome, brave, and a good man, with a good heart, and she wasn't about to let him see how useless she had been. She wasn't about to let him see her insecureties, not when he, as much as the others, needed to see her courage, her bravery, and willingness to serve purpose to the Inquisition.  
   
No, she would take her rattled nerves, her ragged breath, pounding heart, and bitter tears to her grave with her, if she must. Even Cole obviously thought it would be more helpful to not talk about it, and said nothing. But, how endearing he was, the tall, golden haired Templar. She almost felt ashamed for flirting with him so. She wasn't worthy of him. Because in the back of her mind, she felt like a coward. Cullen deserved more than that.  
   
Oh, but none of that mattered at the moment. Not when the rebel mages had somehow been tricked into, or willingly, served the Elder One, the very same mysterious being that had tried to corrupt the Templars. None of it mattered when he brought a dragon, roaring in the sky, bearing down upon Haven with its hellfire, just when they had hope that the battle might be won, or at least have enough time to make their escape.  
   
For once in her life, Brianna Trevelyan would do something brave, she swore to herself. The Chantry Cleric, Chancellor Rodric, though injured from fighting off a mage, was in just enough of a mind to show the survivors out of the Chantry they were trapped in through a hidden exit, one that led north, a path that came out on the other side of the mountain behind them. A possible escape, if someone were to distract the dragon.  
   
That someone...was Bri. To hell with it. She may never live to see the day she'd actually get to steal a kiss from the fair haired Commander, but at least she'd go out doing something worth singing songs or telling tales about. The others were against it, even Solas and Cole, and especially the Tevinter that came ahead of the rebels to warn Haven of the attack. He swore up and down that would be exactly what the Elder One wanted.  
   
But Bri left anyway, tearing out the Chantry door.  
   
It was stupid, but if the Elder One was after her, then she'd surely get his dragon's attention and buy the others time. She absolutely regretted the stupidity, however, when she was cornered by the dragon, no...more than a dragon. It looked for all the world like it was an Archdemon, in the flesh, staring her down with hungry eyes when she tried to haul herself to her feet. 

And this Elder One, this creature that stood before her, that told her she stole the mark on her hand from him? Was this to be her death after all? The orb he held in his hand, its illicit power, crackling like fire as he tried to rip the magic he so called the Anchor from her hand...his words, his otherworldly tone, mocking her...claiming to be the God Thedas deserved...until...

* * *

The dragon's eyes were empty, Alduin noticed when he was close enough to it. Tiny beady things that flitted to and fro like empty black holes, just like the bear. Nothing more than a beast...allowing itself to be _controlled_ , serving this...he didn't know what it was. But he could smell the fetid flesh, the way its skin decayed over its face, its limbs extended in more awkward of a way than even that of a human's. Fused with the red crystals just like the others.  
   
Strange flesh. Strange creature. Alduin watched for a moment as it stood over the human...the human, whose eyes glittered with tears... _afraid_. The human, whose eyes were not merely empty holes...but _green_.  
   
"It's your fault, 'Herald'!" the creature bellowed. "You interrupted a ritual years in the planning!...And instead of dying...you stole its purpose. I have yet to know why you survived, but what marks you as touched...what you flail at rifts...I crafted to assault the very heavens. And you used the anchor to undo my work. The gall!"  
   
Alduin leaned his head to the side in interest. 'Herald'. A word that mankind called the meaning of Qolaas. Another word for Harbinger. The Qolaas...was a human? Of course. It all made sense then. A human. One who was struggling to stand, to fight this creature manipulating magic with this orb, manipulating magic on her hand. It felt like the green light in the sky. It must've all connected somehow.  
   
He did not know who wronged who, or what this magic was...But it seemed this frightful woman was the one he had been searching for. Her face was wet, reddening, and she whimpered. A spot of blood on her cheek. Injured. In pain, perhaps. The creature moved to pick her up off her feet.  
   
"I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Imperium in person," the creature said to her. "I found only chaos and corruption! Dead whispers!...For a thousand years I was confused...but no more. I have gathered these forces in our stead, to purge the blight of this world! Beg for your mercy!...For I have seen the throne of the Gods!...And it was empty!"  
   
He cast her down upon the ground, and Alduin waited for the fire-haired joor to stand up and fight him. Clenched both fists in anticipation. But she would not.  
   
"The Anchor is permanent! You have spoiled it with your stumbling!...So be it! I will find another way to give this world the nation...and God, it requires. And you...will die!"  
   
It was then, upon the realization that she would surely die if Alduin did not interfere, he decided to make his presence known. First thing to be done in servitude? Save this human's life. He walked toward the creature, meeting its gaze, assessing its contorted features. Assessing the way it eyed him with as much disfavor as Alduin had often eyed the dragon slayer he despised.  
   
This creature meant to devour this world, an Eater, and its adversary was now Alduin.  
   
"Aan kopraan," he said in disgust. The creature wrinkled its brow. "Sunvaar...it is you and your disgrace of a dov that I must purge?...Then so be it." he sneered.  
   
"Who are you?!" the creature demanded. Alduin leaned his head to the side, not seeing for himself how his eyes glowed as if in their natural form.  
   
"Faal bahlok tol diivon lein," Alduin answered.  
   
The scream left Alduin's mouth and shook the earth below him, sending a shockwave through it and through the air. Both the creature and its dragon coiled in the wake of it, then stepped back, a mild expression of horror, mixed with confusion, forming on the inhuman face of creature.  
   
The dragon hissed as the two beings realized with the Shout had done, boulders of fire reigning down from the darkened sky, a power that surpassed such things as the catapults that pailed in comparison to its wonder.  
   
The Calling of Alduin. A meteor storm.  
   
The dragon curled its wings around its master, shielding it from the frey, and in turn, Alduin picked up the shaking body of the human, holding her in his arms, for within seconds, the snow would wash over them, the avalanche caused by Alduin's Voice. He glanced down at her, than to the creature, who dissapeared into the snow, marking Alduin's exit as he tore his way past the slabs of ice sliding behind him, leaping out of the way, down to a cavern below, inadvertantly barracading them both.  
   
...It was intriguing the way his Voice made his frail human limbs so weak. But he could still use it, and that was all that mattered. Though trapped in a weak form, capable of decay, capable of death, his power was not matched. The sunvaar that claimed to be a god did fear him. He would most likely not return. Though he wondered why it had such interest in the human that lay unconscious in his arms.  
   
The tiny thing, with flaming hair, white skin, and emerald eyes. Small dots on her cheeks and nose. He had woken from hitting the ice at the bottom of the cave, but she had yet to wake. Her limp body slumped against his, head resting on his shoulder. He looked down at her.  
   
"So the Herald is only a vahdin." he heard himself say. "Nothing more than a girl. How can a child be a Harbinger of Gods? Worthy of the service of Alduin?"  
   
No one answered him, to no surprise, but yet the answers swam in his mind. Mortals had served him...now he would serve a mortal. It fit. It was the cruel irony that awaited him.  
   
He studied her features, making sense of them, and grew curious. There were few marks on her skin, it was as smooth as glass, it seemed, and in the dim light of the icy cavern, he could see the way her lips pursed, brow knitted together, stirring a little in her sleep. But yet she did not wake. And he mused upon the dragon's eyes...empty...yet hers...had been _full_.  
   
The human face before him was not...faceless, not like a pest of a creature that scurried about to do his bidding, or scrambled in fear of him...how his curiosity and interest peaked that suddenly a human's face made more sense to him than a dragon's. What did it mean?  
   
He touched a hand to her cheek, tracing the curve of it with the tip of his finger...and would spend days long after, trying to make sense of that sensation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Aan kopraan-'a corpse'  
> Sunvaar-'creature' (not to be confused with sivaas, which also means 'creature', as in 'beast' or 'animal'. Sunvaar refers to a creature that is monstrous or malevolent in nature.)  
> "Faal bahlok tol diivon lein"-"The hunger that swallows the World"  
> Vahdin-'maiden'


	6. The Man In Black

**Faal Jul Ko Ved-The Man In Black**  

It had been two days since the attack at Haven. Two long days that the survivors haplessly waited in the pass, for any sign, any at all, that the Herald of Andraste yet lived. No sign of the dragon, and no sign of the Elder One. But the refugees sat disheartened, for this time, Solas had not been the only one to see the firestorm, stars falling from the sky over Haven.  
   
They took it as a sign. That the Herald was vanquished, defeated, and soon, they would see the Breach open once more, somehow, and the world would be swallowed up by the Fade. Solas did not intervene, nor give any false hope to the contrary. He merely sat and waited, until Cassandra Pentaghast hauled him to his feet and bade him to search the canyon with her for any sign of Brianna. She, of all present, was not ready to give up on the Herald.  
   
It was hopeless at first, as the storm ushered in did nothing to help the search, but hindered more than ever as he and the Seeker saw nothing but wave after wave of snow flurry. The blizzard picked up, and just when Solas was about to suggest they go back to the others, a black spot appeared that wasn't there before. He tapped the Seeker's shoulder and gestured to it, her gaze following his pointing finger. She drew her sword.  
   
It was a man, trudging through the snow, slowly pushing through the storm, one foot in front of the other, never wavering. He wondered who it was. There had been no other survivors of Haven's attack, he was sure...so who this man was...it was lost on Solas. He drew nearer, near enough for the elf to see he carried someone. Solas reared in surprise as he saw that this tall gentleman, with long black hair, was carrying _Brianna_. Cassandra surged forward.  
   
"Lady Trevelyan!" she gasped, reaching out for her, but the man drew away from her... _protectively_ , gripping Brianna tighter in his arms. Cassandra brandished her sword once more while Solas assessed him.  
   
"Hand her over! Now!" the Seeker menaced.  
   
The man glared at her. He had piercing eyes, so pale, almost white, perhaps bloodshot though, as Solas could make out a little red in them. Strands of hair that clung to his face, though most of it was pulled back in a braid at the nape of his neck, one that stretched the length of his back. Large, almost as big as a Qunari, broad shoulders, covered in black armor, the origin of it, Solas could not guess...though it resembled dragon scales.  
   
And he was equipped with a greatsword, strapped to his back. How he was able to carry her _and_ that magnificently sized weapon through the snow...Solas didn't know, though, he admired this man's determination, albeit fruitless at the moment.  
   
Brianna stirred.  
   
"...Cassandra?" she mumbled, trying to reach out with her hand.  
   
It was at that moment, and _only_ that moment, as the man's gaze traveled from Brianna to Cassandra, that he decided to hand her over to the Seeker, who hefted her into her arms. Perhaps realizing they meant Brianna no harm. As soon as she left his arms, it seemed the remains of the man's strength left him, and he dropped to his knees. Solas could barely make out a slash in his armor, across the midriff.  
   
He'd been cut, was probably bleeding, though one could not tell by the color of the mantle he wore. Cassandra sauntered off with the Herald in tow, while Solas remained behind.  
   
"Wait here," he said to him. "I'll get someone to help you."  
   
With those words he turned and fled, to find someone big enough to haul him to his feet and help him to camp. Wondering the whole way who this man in black was. 

* * *

Brianna woke to find herself among members of the Inquisition. Familiar faces, looks of worry plastered on them. She was too weak to move, but the woman that sat next to her, Mother Giselle, informed her of what took place, or what she assumed took place, while she slept, for she hadn't a way of knowing what happened to Bri after tearing out of the Chantry in search of a dragon apart from what Bri remembered.  
   
Which was mostly the Elder One looming over her, some sort of earthquake, a storm of fire, and someone else appearing, though she didn't know who it was. But she answered all of her allies' questions as best she could when she had strength enough to speak, though said nothing of the man that chased away this 'Corypheus' and his dragon. Quite certain it was another illusion, hallucanation perhaps.  
   
Perhaps another spirit, like Cole.  
   
Bri listened to the ranking members argue amongst one another, for several hours, feeling completely helpless to the situation. They had no where to turn, they believed. How could she possibly help them? The reason she was there was because she had a mark, the Anchor, it was called, that closed the Breach. How could she stop this Elder creature? Corypheus. What could she do?  
   
She wanted to go home. Wanted to lock herself in her room, and hide, never to come out. She would sooner listen to her father scold her for being such a disgrace to the Trevelyans than this.  
   
She had been missing for two days. She vaguely remembered it. Seemed like a dream. The Elder One, who called himself Corypheus, trying to rip the mark from her hand, finding he could not, and he would surely have killed her in recompense. But she had survived... _somehow_. Some manner of luck yet again.  
   
She survived the rain of fire, the avalanche...And her dream...of someone who spoke a language she did not recognize...All of this swam about in her mind like fish with no direction, no focus. Had it been more than a dream? Had it been real? Had it been a vision of what was to come, and she ignored it? Causing so many people to die?  
   
For some reason, completely lost on her, these people still saw some form of hope in her. She survived, somehow, and she still bore the mark upon her hand. Somewhere, out there, were rifts that still needed closing, and an Elder One that needed stopped, and they needed allies and sanctuary. It would be a miracle to find all this.  
   
She had to fight tears as they sang, trying to find some light in the dark, some bit of hope, and she couldn't help but tear herself away from the gathering of people, needing a moment to think, to process. Maybe...just maybe, she could think of the answer. After all, she survived the dragon didn't she? And the Elder One, she'd escaped his clutches.  
   
As she walked away from the encampment, Solas stopped her, asking if they might speak in private. As much as she found a kinship in Solas, she wasn't about to relent all her fears and doubts to him, not when the people waiting nearby needed her to be strong. So instead she listened when she followed him over the bank, where he planted a torch and lit it with Veilfire.  
   
Bri hoped it would bear a good omen, as it worked to strengthen the Veil, and stave off any malevolent forces lingering nearby. She let out a sigh, folding her arms, listening to the elf as he spoke.  
   
"What you spoke of. Corypheus and the power he wields. The orb you described. I believe I know its origin." As he said this, he roused Bri's full attention, wiping all previous thought from her mind. "It is elven. I believe he used it to open the Breach. In unlocking it's power he likely caused the explosion at the Temple. I have yet to know how Corypheus survived, much in the same as you, but...I also do not know how people will react when they learn of the orb's origin."  
   
"Are you certain?" she asked him, scratching her chin in thought, and watched him nod. "So...what is it, then? How do you know about it?"  
   
"They were Foci, used to channel ancient forms of magic. I have seen such things in my dreams in the Fade," he explained. "I do not know if Corypheus knows of the power he wields, it's origin; likely he believes it to be Tevinter. I cannot stand that ancient artifacts of my people should be stolen and twisted for such purpose."  
   
"That bothers me as well," Bri stated. "I should like to do what I can to see it restored to its rightful owner. Or at least destroyed."  
   
"Destroyed?" Solas repeated. "You would destroy such a valuable object, Herald?"  
   
"If we must," she lamented, knowing how heartbreaking it must've been for Solas that yet another thing belonging to the elves should be lost, when they already lost so much. "Creatures such as Corypheus should not have such power."  
   
"You have my gratitude," he said. "And this likely proves once and for all you are not the person responsable for the Breach. Something that eases your troubles a bit, perhaps?"  
   
She nodded. So he knew she was troubled by all of this? Could see right through her? It didn't surprise her. She could see a little through him as well. She didn't need him to say so for her to know how much it bothered him that the Elder One possessed something belonging to his people, and whether or not he was given it, or stole it, the shadow it would cast on them.  
   
How the Dalish, the Alienages, and possibly all elves in Thedas, would be seen as the enemy, conspirators in alliegance with Corypheus. And he had clearly stated he believed she was not responsible for the Conclave, and that comforted her. She found more to appreciate of him in that.  
   
"This will stay between us, for now, until we can learn more information," she informed him, and he nodded in agreement. "I owe you my thanks, Solas, if I have forgotten to mention. If not for your advice, I would not have made it thus far." She smiled.  
   
Advice...and his magic where she lacked any skill with a bow.  
   
He smiled a little, then stared at the Veilfire before them.  
   
"While I am happy to have lended assistance, and I appreciate the gratitude...I cannot take all the credit," he admitted.  
   
"True, we all did it together," Bri chuckled. "But you have been a good friend, and a great help, nonetheless."  
   
"That wasn't what I-"  
   
Before Solas could finish his sentance, there was a noise behind them. A scuffle, then a very distraught healer scrambling past a tent, putting distance between herself and something, and what sounded like growling. Bri went to investigate. Solas followed after, seemingly interested. She rounded a corner, peering past a group of soldiers sitting by a fire, to see a darkly clothed figure, sitting away from all the others, next to a fire of his own...could it be him?  
   
"He won't go near anyone, and won't let anyone near him," Solas stated. "I believe he's badly injured, but as we just witnessed, he does not seem keen on allowing anyone to assist."  
   
"Who is he?" she asked. Solas gave her an odd expression.  
   
"We assumed that you knew his identity. He certainly knows who _you_ are."  
   
"He's the one who brought you back," answered Cole, from behind her. She stilled herself of the sudden startling action of a spirit appearing behind her, knowing he was just as interested as she, only curious of the affair. Perhaps knew who he was maybe? For she didn't recognize him, apart from him appearing at Haven, rescuing her.  
   
"So it wasn't a dream, after all," she said with a half-chuckle, in some disbelief.  
   
Solas chuckled beside her. "No, Herald," he smiled. "He gave the Iron Bull some trouble...gave us a bit of trouble as well, but he's made no move to leave. Seems clear he intends to stay."  
   
"Has he said anything?" she inquired, not taking her eyes off the man, a chill running down her spine when he noticed that she, Solas, and Cole were watching him from afar and his gaze met hers.  
   
"Apart from asking for a bit of food, I'm afraid not. His only concern was making sure..." Solas trailed off. A smile appeared on his lips. He took a breath. "He thought that _we_ were going to hurt you. I think. It took some assurance on my part that we meant you no harm."  
   
Solas walked away at that, no longer interested, Bri supposed. Though Cole still stood beside her, shifting from one foot to the other, growing nervous.  
   
"He's not human," Cole murmured, fear in his voice. Well, even from this distance, she could tell the man was rather large, Qunari perhaps. "Not Qunari either," Cole muttered, answering her thought. "He won't let the healers heal...he won't let them help...because he doesn't understand."  
   
"Doesn't understand what, Cole?" she asked. He paused before answering.  
   
"He doesn't understand...that he's human."  
   
"Now I don't understand either," Bri said with a laugh. "Is he, or is he not...human?" she asked.  
   
"I don't know," Cole answered.  
   
She turned to look at him, but he was already gone, disappearing to somewhere unseen. Very curious things to say. Just when she thought she had him figured out, Cole confused her again.  
   
She replayed his words over and over in her mind while debating what to do...Why was she so frightened all of the sudden? Frightened to venture away from camp, over to where this stranger sat, who carried her through a blizzard for two days, who saved her life, to thank him?...She took a deep breath, searching for courage, and trudged through the bits of slush and mud to where he sat.  
   
He was real. Not a dream, after all, and he had rescued her from the Elder One's clutches...which meant the rest of it was no dream either. The scream, so loud it pierced her ears, shook the earth, and then the sky burned...did he do that? What manner of magic was that?  
   
...Was Cole correct to think he wasn't human?


	7. Savior

**Saviik-Savior**  

Long, dark hair, sweat dampening his forehead...Chiseled features, brows that furrowed as he glared at her, watching her walk slowly to where he sat; legs bent, elbows propped up on his knees beside the fire. If he wasn't really human, he certainly chose an attractive human form to take, though also an intimidating one. She wondered just what sort of trouble he gave Iron Bull.  
   
His eyes...she wasn't sure what color they were with the firelight that danced across them. He didn't blink, his gaze never wavered from hers. He looked...like he meant to _eat_ her, though he had _rescued_ her. If she hadn't known this fact, perhaps she wouldn't put it past him to snatch up that sword beside him and use it to gut her. He looked... _dangerous_.  
   
But this close to him, stopping just a few feet from his spot by the fire, she could see the tear in his scaled breastplate, stretching from ribs down his side at an angle. The injury Solas referred to? It certainly meant he could be injured like a human then. Perhaps she was just being ridiculous, and both she and Cole were over thinking the situation. Well, she knew _she_ might. Was it possible for a _spirit_ to overanalyze?  
   
"You're hurt," she noted quietly as she crouched down to take a closer look at the wound, trying to ignore the way she trembled. Partly from the cold, but mostly from nervousness.  
   
"It will heal," he said dryly, with a scowl, his voice deep and perhaps a little dark. As ominous as Corypheus himself, and it made her shudder, though unnoticeably. "Eventually," he added.  
   
"Not if it's infected," she said. "May I see it?...Please?" she asked him. He stared at her for a moment, before he finally nodded. But he made no motion to remove the armor. Did it hurt to do so? Did he need help doing it, but was too prideful to admit so? It would make sense as to why he chased off the healers, though...  
   
_He won't let them help..._  
   
"Take off the armor. Let me see it," she said again.  
   
He let out a breath through his nose, nostrils flaring, but reluctantly reached up to pull lose the buckles, straining to do so. As she suspected, it hurt to remove his armor and tend to himself. She reached out to help him and he...leaned away from her, giving a brief look of confusion, seeming to tense up as she moved her hand up to his chest. But he didn't move, so slowly she undid the straps, so that the armor plate could be pried away from his side, and his tunic could be pulled up.  
   
He watched with interest the entire time. Surprised by her for some reason, though she couldn't place the cause for surprise. Perhaps...she didn't understand either. The wound itself, she noticed, had reopened, and was turning an assortment of colors. It was an old wound. Infected, as she had guessed.  
   
"You didn't get this at Haven, did you?" she asked. He was silent for a moment.  
   
"A bear," he finally replied. "Must've opened when we fell, and landed in the cave."  
   
She tore her attention away from the huge gash in his side to fiddle with her pouch, pulling out a small vial, the red liquid swishing around inside it. She held it out to him. He simply stared at it, as if he didn't know what it was, or thought that it was poison, when in fact it was a medicinal elixir.  
   
"Take this and drink it," she said. "It's my last one, I'm afraid. It won't close the wound, not completely, but it should cure the infection at least."  
   
He did as instructed and took the small bottle in his hand, ripping the cork out with his teeth, spitting it onto the ground, and drank, giving a look of disgust in the taste. She continued to dig around in her pouch.  
   
"I'll have to stitch the wound," she said to him. "But you're in luck, for I was taught by the finest seamstress in Ostwick." She smiled a little. "I would suggest staying away from bears until it heals," she tried to joke, but he didn't laugh, didn't say a word, just simply stared at her. She sighed, threading the needle in her hand.  
   
She checked the wound to see that the infection was already subsiding, though it was still open, and noticed the small trail of blood on the ground beside him. The pain must've been unbearable, yet...he didn't make a sound. A brave man. She moved to sew the flesh and he jumped when the needle poked him. He grabbed her wrist and roughly yanked it away, his grip on her painful. It startled her. She almost dropped the needle.  
   
_He won't let them help...because he doesn't understand..._  
   
He...didn't understand what she was trying to do, did he? He'd never been stitched up before? Where in the world was he from?  
   
"Please...let me stitch the wound," she pleaded quietly, hearing the nervousness in her voice. "This will help you. Please...let me help you. It's the least I can do in return for your saving my life." Upon hearing this, his expression changed.  
   
"You owe me nothing for saving your life," he said, wrinkling a brow, confused that she would repay his kindness, as if she should already know this bit of information.  
   
"What do you mean?" she asked, quite confused herself.  
   
"Aam faal Qolaas," he said. This only worsened the confusion, but...he did indeed speak a language she did not understand, the magnitude of it washing over her like a cold wind, chilling her bones. "I was sent to serve you. Aam faal Qolaas. Serve the Herald," he relented. "You are the one called Herald, are you not?" he asked. She nodded. "Then you owe me nothing. But it is I...in _your_ debt."  
   
She leaned back in her haunches. He still held her wrist, but let go after he said those words.  
   
"Who...who sent you, exactly? Who sent you to serve me?"  
   
Her question was certainly a reasonable inquiry, regardless, he looked as if he did not want to answer. Or...he wasn't allowed to say?...As most believed her sent by the Maker, as the Herald of Andraste...was it really so? She really was, and he was sent by the Maker as well to aid her, somehow? Did he think she would not believe him?  
   
"It does not matter," he said, to her dismay. "Only that I am here. Whatever your need...my arm is yours to command. Whatever you ask of me, I will not disobey."  
   
She felt the sudden urge to inhale sharply at his statement. She stifled it, in fact, almost stopped breathing. His words made her uncomfortable. Sounded less like servitude...and more like enslavement. A slave to her every command? Was someone forcing him to serve her? For what reason? And so many questions flooding her mind at once, she forgot to ask the most mundane of questions.  
   
"What's your name?" she managed to ask.  
   
"...Alduin," he answered.  
   
"Well, then I suppose it's a...pleasure to make your acquaintance then, Alduin," she stammered. "My name is Brianna. Brianna Trevelyan...though my friends back home call me Bri." She smirked. "Servant or no servant, you saved my life, and that, I would say, gives you the right to call me such." She raised a brow. "Are you going to let me stitch you up now? The pain is only temporary...and you're still bleeding, you know."  
   
Finally he nodded, and held his tunic out of the way, and hesitantly she started working the needle, with a steady hand. After the initial stitch, he didn't move, seeming to be almost unaffected by it after a few minutes. He said nothing, and it startled her, yet again, when he did speak, almost out of nowhere.  
   
"Bri," he repeated her name. "That word has meaning in my tongue," he said, his voice low and deep, though resounding in her ears as she sewed. "It means 'beauty'."  
   
Her heart leapt in her chest, for she simply didn't know how to take that statement. Instead of a reply, she simply kept stitching, finding an odd sort of comfort in the following silence.

* * *

 _Brii_.  
   
It was her name. What it meant in her tongue, he did not know, but the name she was called by those closest to her, as she had said...it meant 'beauty'. Every name, every word had meaning, had purpose, and the irony of her name, it was lost on him at the moment. But yet, there was something becoming of her, all the same, something tranquil, serene, in the way she spoke so softly, and touched with gentle hand.

She was so opposite of his nature it was confounding. So different, even from other humans, he noticed. How intriguing. So...what was a good word? Ah yes... _Drem_. Such a thing described her perfectly.   
   
Though he could not say the same for the small, sharp instrument she used, the tool meant to close his wound. The way it bit, stung the skin, sending tiny waves of discomfort with every puncture. And her persistence that he call her Brii. A name used by fahdon. Those she called 'friend'. This human woman confused him so.  
   
...Admittedly, he'd been confused by this human since first saving her from certain death some days ago. 

"Qolaas," he had whispered, trying to shake her awake as they lay in the cave to which they had fallen. "Qolaas," he said again. "Bex hin miin."

Slowly she started to rouse, stirring a little, and emerald eyes cracked open. Then they widened a little when they focused on his face. She looked afraid of him, or perhaps confused, the blow to the head jarring her memory.

"Drem," he said, "I won't hurt you."

"My head," she said as she clutched it, face contorting, eyes squeezing shut.

"Can you walk?" He asked.

"I don't think so. I feel lightheaded," came her soft reply, and so he scooped her into his arms. She trembled and was cold to the touch. So...weak and vulnerable. Surely this was not the Herald he'd been searching for, was it?  _Zeim mindoraan_. He could not believe this soft and defenseless creature was touched by the Gods, until they came to the end of the tunnel before them and he heard a screech. In the next passageway there were even stranger oddities that awaited.

He stopped, prepared to set her down and defend her against these otherworldly creatures when a curious thing occurred. The magic on her hand roared to life. She had only the strength to raise her arm and little more, but it was enough to use this magic, that shot out of her hand, a green light swirled, much like the one from the sky, then...nothing. The creatures disappeared, as if they were never there. Her magic banished them and she went limp in his grasp.

After staring, dumbfounded, by the occurrence for a time, he shook himself out of his trance and carried on, clutching the unconscious woman in his arms while searching for the exit.

Once out of the mountain and into the raging snowstorm, he carried her toward the faint light in the distance, having no other beacon by which to travel, and nowhere else to go. The village where he found her, in discord with the corpse and its dragon, was completely destroyed, abandoned by those that fled to safety... _somewhere_. He did not know where, but guessed that the light that burned in the distance at dusk would give some clue, somehow.

For two days he carried her.  
   
His strength had all but failed him when he finally happened upon people. A human and an...elf, he guessed, by the pointed ears it possessed. It held a staff and the human brandished a sword. They tried to take the Herald from him.  
   
In the moment it took him to brace himself to draw his sword and rush upon them the moment he set down the Herald, before either could snatch her up, it seemed she had stirred in her unconscious state. She knew the human, reached out for her. It was only right that he relinquish her to the other human, do the Herald's bidding. And if he held her a moment longer, his pitiful, weak body would surely collapse in the snow. He would drop her. He did _not_ intend to drop her.  
   
He didn't like the way the elf smelled. Something about him...he just didn't like. But his body hadn't the strength to strike him down. He dropped to his knees, and watched as the elf tarried after the human that carried the Herald. He had said something to him, before running off, but he didn't catch his words.  
   
...Some time later, he wasn't sure how much time had passed, the elf returned. With something large. A thing, another creature, with large horns protruding from its head. It stood upright on two feet, though it was no man, mer, beastkind, or otherwise. Nothing resembling creatures on Nirn. But it was as big as he was. Though it did not smell like the sunvaar that fled the village with a dragon. Alduin didn't care _what_ it was.  
   
He glared at them, curious of who would strike him first, if they would.  
   
"Look at that wound, Solas. He's gonna die," said the horned creature. "I say leave him here."  
   
"Kolos..fos...faal...qolaas?" Alduin asked them weakly, no breath left in his lungs to even speak, it seemed. Without thinking, he'd used his natural tongue. He growled in his frustration. "The...Herald...where is she?" he demanded in the mortal tongue.  
   
"She is safe," said the elf before turning to face the horned thing. "We cannot leave him to die," he said. "He was kind enough to brave the storm and return Brianna-"  
   
"Take me to her," Alduin demanded, ignoring what the elf said to the other present, and attempting to haul himself to his feet. The horned figure stepped toward him, and rather instinctively, he drew his sword from his back, aiming it at the creature. He backed away a few steps.  
   
"He's only trying to help," the elf assured calmly.  
   
"I need no help from you," the dragon spat. "Show me to the Herald. _Now_."  
   
"Drop the sword first," said the horned creature, slowly drawing his own instrument when Alduin would not withdraw his, a rather magnificent hammer, one that stretched in equal length of the sword Alduin carried. He held it in both hands. A thing that Alduin found comical. Such a big brute, twice the size of any man he'd met, yet, he held such a large mallet like a puny human from Nirn. He lowered his sword a few inches as he stared at the thing.  
   
"Why do you hold your hammer like that, sivaas? Are you not strong enough to lift it single handedly?" he wrinkled a brow. "Surely as big as you are you're stronger than that." The creature leaned his head to the side, looking Alduin over.  
   
"You shouldn't insult someone carrying a bigger weapon than yours," he jeered at Alduin. Both gripped their tools a little tighter in hand. He assumed that Alduin was mocking him?...Perhaps he simply needed to make him understand the logic.  
   
"Please, this is not-" the elf tried to intervene, but it was pointless.  
   
Alduin already lunged at the creature, dodging as he slowly swung his big hammer over his head. Big...and slow then. Made it all the easier for Alduin to lash out with the sword, and though the creature blocked it well enough, Alduin was already behind him, reaching up with his free hand, snatching the creature by one of his horns, wrenching him sideways, then bringing him to the ground.  
   
He hadn't expected this from the dragon, and his hammer flew from his hand as he reached to try and pry Alduin from him, who was wrapping him up in a chokehold. The beast stopped moving when he realized he was defenseless, and Alduin's sword was across his throat. Though he could feel himself being crushed under the horned creature's weight, it did not deter him, and he was prepared to slit the creature's throat, when he found a staff pointed at his nose.  
   
"I believe you've made your point," said the elf as he glared at Alduin, his voice calm, even in tone, but his eyes...his eyes held a different story. "It seems you do not require assistance after all. Now, if you would kindly let up the Iron Bull, I'd be happy to take you to the Herald."  
   
Hmm, spoken rather coldly. A Mer who showed no fear. Alduin was inclined to be a little impressed. He released the thing the elf called Iron Bull, who proceeded to angrily scramble to his feet and storm off, headed toward the light behind them. The elf withdrew his staff and watched in interest as Alduin hauled himself to his feet.  
   
"That was unnecessary," the elf commented. "Why the confrontation? Why did you not simply withdraw?" Alduin looked over at him. By his tone of voice, that lacked stiffness, and the glitter in his eyes, he was simply curious. Alduin sheathed his sword.  
   
"Because I don't answer to him, nor do I answer to you," he admitted.  
   
"Who, then, do you answer to?" the elf asked.  
   
"The Herald. Now lead on."  
   
...She lay unconscious still, surrounded by several people, and there was nothing Alduin could do but wait until she woke up, and proceeded to tell him what she wished him to do. He stood nearby for a moment, watching, curious as to why all these people followed her, wondering what sort of power she possessed, what more she was capable of, and what she intended to do with her magic.  
   
He was content to remain this way, until he was berated with questions by two humans. One of them, the woman that carried the Herald off, bringing her there to the encampment, the other, a taller human, with hair the color of gold, shining armor, brows knitted together. He didn't like Alduin, it seemed, was not grateful in anyway that he returned the Herald to her servants.  
   
He did not thank him, but the human woman did, before asking him who he was and what he was doing there. They did not know he was sent to serve the Herald, and he kept it that way. It was not their business to know of tinvaak meant for only the Herald's ears. This flustered them. He reveled inside at their irritation. Content to let them stir.  
   
"You should let someone look at that," said the short haired human woman to him, gesturing to the tear in his armor that was the slash from the bear he encountered. He looked down at it, then back up at her, then to the Herald.  
   
"When she wakes, she will decide if it should be...'looked at'," he said, then turned away, to find a quiet place to sit, far from these people and their questions until his master regained consciousness, and decided what was meant to be his fate.  
   
And how confusion settled within him so, when she woke up some time later, approached him and...meant to tend to him herself? Would that not be beneath her?...But it seemed she did not know he would come to serve her. Didn't even know his name. And how after he told her that she did not owe to him such behavior...she persisted still.  
   
Such mannerism was lost on him. He didn't understand her at all. Her voice was soft, not loud, angry, or commanding. Gentle, as was her touch. Soothing.  
   
And her name meant 'beauty'.

She was nothing like Alduin at all.

Interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: (Some of these may be repetitive, but nonetheless I've added them)
> 
> Aam Faal Qolaas-'Serve the Herald'  
> Brii-'beauty'  
> Drem-'peace/peaceful'  
> Bex hin miin-'Open your eyes'  
> Zeim mindoraan-'Beyond comprehension'  
> Sunvaar-'creature', a.i. Corypheus.  
> Sivaas-'creature', as in animal or beast. I.e. a bear or other common creature.  
> Kolos fos faal Qolaas-'Whereat be the Herald' (Where is the Herald)  
> Tinvaak-'speech'


	8. Strength Where You Have None

**Suleyk Kolos Hi Lost Nid-Strength Where You Have None**  

The moment that Alduin realized the purpose of the Herald, it was a rather humorous epiphany on his part.  
   
No, she was not a master of destructive will like Alduin had been, but rather the opposite. In fact, she was the exact opposite of _everything_ Alduin had been to the people of Nirn.  
   
She was a 'hero'. Those who served her thought she was bestowed upon them by their god to save their realm from a beast that tried to devour it. And he had been a dov, destined to _devour_. This was the point the 'gods' in Aetherius were trying to make. To humble him, by casting him on the opposite path of his purpose.  
   
A pond in which poetry stirred with every ripple. _Beautiful_ , he thought rather sardonically to himself, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't know whether to laugh at the absurdity, or hang his head in shame.  _I could not possibly have sunk any lower than this. This, by far, is the lowest._  
   
But none of that mattered at the moment, when the most disconcerting matter was how incapable, how weak, and how frightened Brii was. The one called Dovahkiin had more courage than this one. But serenity, he had not. Beauty he had not. For all his poor excuses for Shouting, all his bumbling about, stumbling onto his destiny like a child struggling to walk, he still slayed Alduin. He still had the Voice of a dragon, even if he hadn't the body. But he lacked qualities the Herald possessed, and he was certain there was a reason for that, a reason Alduin was meant to explore.   
   
The Herald was so small. Small for even a human. Her long red hair was pulled into a braid, draping over her shoulder, so it don't flow like the waves of an ocean quite like it did upon first seeing her. But it still looked...Alduin couldn't answer that thought. He didn't have any idea in his head of what to compare her to. Her eyes, they still had a gleam in them, especially in the firelight, they resembled the eyes of a dragon, the way he remembered them looking. Full of life, full of wonder.  
   
And the thought entered his mind once more of how lifeless the eyes of the sunvaar's dov had been. Was it some sort of curse, brought about being trapped in this human body, that he couldn't make sense of the dragon, but he could make sense of the Herald? He could make sense of this human, called Brii?  
   
That he could notice things he hadn't before, how she frowned, narrowed her eyes, concentrating on stitching him up, and then how the corner of her mouth turned upward in her sense of pride at how well she had done, marvelling at her handiwork. That he... _liked_ the way she looked. Liked her features. Liked them far better than those of the ones who also served her.  
   
"There," she cooed. "All finished."  
   
She wiped the bit of sweat from her brow and sat back on the ground, tucking her sewing instruments back in her small bag. She was not wrinkled, scarred, or damaged, in any way. Not but a small bruise on her forehead, near her hairline, from being hit and knocked unconscious. Smooth, unmarred skin, slender frame, hidden behind a leather coat, not sufficient protection against the cold, not without the fire blazing.  
   
The very opposite of a Dov, it seemed...But, so was he. Apart from his Thu'um, the body that belonged to him now was in no way resembling that of dragon form.  
   
"The sunvaar...the creature. What was he?" Alduin asked, making Brii look up at him with her gleaming eyes. She sucked in a breath, and let it out slowly, contemplating.  
   
"I believe he is darkspawn," she answered. "A Tevinter. He called himself Corypheus. He believes he's at least a thousand years old, likely one of the first Magisters, those that breached the Fade and returned as the first darkspawn, plaguing the world with Blight...and his dragon was an Archdemon, I think."  
   
She glanced over at Alduin from staring at the fire as she spoke. A bunch of words he knew not the meaning of. Hardly a surprise, considering how far he was from home. But it seemed this Corypheus was some sort of ancient immortal monstrosity that cursed the world and was trying to rule over it like a god with some sort of demonic dragon at its disposal.

"He mentioned something about being _confused_ for a thousand years, if I recall...A powerful creature...but he met his match, didn't he?" She raised a single brow at him. Once more her lip upturned, as if she found it humorous. "How did you do that?" she asked. "How did you get us out of there alive?"  
   
"I Shouted," he answered.  
   
"I...don't get it. Is...is that supposed to be a joke, or...?"  
   
"What did he want from you?" he asked her. She sighed.  
   
"He wanted this," she held up her hand, and Alduin could see a faint tendril of green light coming from it. The magic. This thousand year old sunvaar wanted her magic. But he had not succeeded in taking it from her, it seemed. "He called it the Anchor. He said I stole it's purpose. And used it to undo his work. I believe he opened the Breach, and grew very cross when I undid it." She chuckled, though it was brief, and the laughter didn't touch her eyes.  
   
The green light in the sky, steeped in the very same magic as the kind in her hand. It had disappeared. So had _she_ made that happen? She closed this 'Breach', as she called it. And this was not what the sunvaar desired, then? It suddenly made him want to know what the green light in the sky, the Breach, actually did to cause such unrest. And why she was so afraid when clearly she was able to undo his work.  
   
"What purpose did opening the Breach serve?" he asked, but she only shrugged, and she stared at the fire, neglecting to give an answer at first.  
   
"I believe creatures like him mean only to cause chaos. And that's exactly what the Breach served up...Where are you from?" she asked in turn, changing the subject, it seemed. He did not press further about it, and instead answered her question.  
   
"I'm not from anywhere," he replied.  
   
"Really? Then...where did you live, before you found me?" she countered, still trying to learn from him. He wanted to answer her, but, he didn't know how to explain it to her, in a way that she would understand.  
   
"Nirn," he simply answered.  
   
"Nirn," she repeated. "I've never heard of it."  
   
"It's very far from here," he said. In truth, he did not know how far, but he was certain that wherever they were, it was beyond the reaches of Aetherius, as far from Mundus as the Gods could get him. Brii soaked in his words, mulling them over, he guessed, staring still at the fire.  
   
"So...you are from a faraway land, and you're far from your home...and sent by some mysterious force to serve me?" she said, lacing her fingers together as she did. "You don't know who sent you, do you? Or why you were sent to me."  
   
He heard and felt himself sigh. He had to answer, didn't he? She would not be satisfied if he didn't.  
   
He _did_ know who sent him, and he _did_ know why. He was banished from his realm, from his land, for being weak. For not being strong enough to end the life of the dragon slayer sent to challenge him. The Gods would have him believe it was for his arrogance, but had he defeated those mortal warriors and their Dragonborn, the world would've been _his_. It was that simple. But he was cheated. And _why_ he was sent to serve her, to gain redemption, pay a price, and take back his rightful form.  
   
A form he meant to use to devour the world. But could he make the mind of this mortal understand, even begin to fathom the reason, if told to her in all its truth? It could take all of eternity to explain. He no longer had eternity. And...she was gentlehearted it seemed. In that moment, he did not want to disturb the fragile sheet of glass that was her gentility. He was fascinated by it.  
   
How could he do as he was asked, and answer her questions without shattering the tranquil moment between them? This was an interesting test, it seemed. To answer without answering. The truth without truth. He found that fascinating as well for a moment.  
   
She was small, weak, and unable to fend off this sunvaar, Corypheus. Unconscious and unable to find her way back to her servants that lamented over her. Frail, without fire, scales, tooth and talon to gnash at her enemies. She was not a dragon. And though trapped in a weaker form, he was still a dragon in spirit. He could protect her from the danger she would face, should the sunvaar and his crippling dov return for her. So that was his purpose for serving her, then? To protect her while she protected her realm?  
   
"I was sent by my maker to give you strength where you have none... _thuri_ ," he answered her. Biting back his pride as he addressed her so.

* * *

_To give you strength where you have none, thuri..._  
   
How his words bothered her long after she departed from where he sat by his fire, after suggesting he rest. If it were strength he meant to provide, he would have none if he did not try to sleep, and allow himself to mend, allow the healing elixir to do its work. But...strength he did have, it seemed. Strength enough to royally piss off Iron Bull, wrestling him to the ground, putting his sword to the Qunari's throat.  
   
Strength enough to carry her in the storm for two days. Strength enough to survive being mauled by a bear?...And strength enough to stand up to the frightening Elder One, saving her from what would've most likely been her death. Seemed cause enough for Cole to think he wasn't human. But from where she sat next to him, as close as she had been when tending to him, she could clearly see that he was indeed human.  
   
And therefore, he was not completely indestructible, nor immortal, so rest he would indeed require.  
   
There was something about him though...something she couldn't quite put her finger on. The way he looked her over. He... _glared_ , a lot. Didn't smile. Not once, the entire time they spoke. Perhaps it was because he was in pain, and spending too much time trying to hide it, that he didn't notice how...how...well, how positively _evil_ he looked. The way he stared at her...she wondered if it weren't some sort of trap.  
   
Wondered if she could really trust him. Wondered if she wouldn't wake one night to find him trying to cut her into pieces if he followed her wherever she went. She didn't know what to tell the others of him. But...they didn't ask. They had assumed she knew him, hadn't they? And neither Solas nor Cole conveyed the truth to anyone. Perhaps...perhaps they knew something she didn't.  
   
She counseled Alduin before she left his side that as far as anyone there was concerned, they knew one another. He did not have to say why, or how, but for the moment, it was imperative that the others believe he was an ally, at least until she could make time to find out who he really was, and the real reason why he was sent to her. Of that, she did not confess to him, however.  
   
She had a feeling that either way, he would remain silent unless instructed otherwise. So far he had. A man of few words, and while it was aggrevating, it was also useful.  
   
She wasn't tired. Ached all over, as was expected, but after being out for two days, sleep was the last thing on her mind. Cole didn't sleep either, it seemed, and he was just the person she was looking for. If she could find him. He wasn't anywhere to be seen, though this came to no surprise. Much like a rueful spirit, he didn't come when called. Only came around when he felt the time was right. Bri supposed the time wasn't right.  
   
Solas was also awake still, though it was almost morning when she saw him heading back to the encampment from somewhere. He padded quietly through the snow, staff in hand, using it as a walking stave. She changed step, changed direction, and headed for him, shaking her head and smiling as she did so.  
   
"You find something amusing?" he asked with a smile when she was within earshot.  
   
"Oh yes, very much so," she grinned. "The look on Bull's face when he told me what happened with Alduin."  
   
"So that's his name?" the elf inquired and she nodded. "Interesting...He would tell us nothing of himself until you woke. Not even his name."  
   
"That doesn't surprise me," she said. Then she sighed. "Why have you not told the others?"  
   
"Told the others of what?" he asked.  
   
"That I never knew him before. I know the others had questions about him. Questions that even I can't answer of him. Granted, he saved my life, but...is that truly cause to trust him? When so far, at every turn, something crawls out of the depths to trick us somehow? This could be some sort of trap."  
   
She didn't need to continue further for him to guess that she meant the events at Therinfall, and the revelation that rebel mages marched on Haven in league with the Elder One. All the people they lost in the process. Every terrifying bit of their journey insofar.  
   
"...It was not my secret to tell," he finally answered. "And it is not imperative when the larger struggle still lies ahead."  
   
"What do you mean?" Bri asked, perplexed.  
   
"Even with the Breach closed, the world still lies asunder. The Inquisition still has a purpose to serve, as long as Corypheus lives. And if Alduin has come to aid you in your endeavor, you will need him. As you will need every ally you can get. But most certainly him."  
   
"Why do you say that?" Bri shifted in her stance, and watched as Solas leaned against his staff and smiled a little at the corner of his mouth.  
   
"For there was a dragon in the storm," was all he said. "A magnificent dragon. And when the stars fall from the heavens again, I'm most certain this time, the dragon will come with it."  
   
This time around...Solas' advice did not aid in easing her mind. In fact, it sounded like prophetic gibberish. Where was Cole, the mind reader, when she needed him?

"Wait a minute, _what_?" she blurted.

But before Solas could answer, others were waking, demanding of her attention, and the answer to her question would have to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Thuri-'Master', or 'Overlord', a term of highest respect to a dragon.


	9. Wandering Spirit

**Rovaan Zii-Wandering Spirit**  

Bri would leave no one behind. Not the wounded, half dead soldiers that needed carried to the stronghold they searched for. Not the weak, not the sick, not the dying. She owed it to Chancellor Rodric, who in the last hours of his life, begged forgiveness, saying how he was wrong, and believed she was indeed sent by the Maker to guide them. It broke her heart when he took his last breath.  
   
That even a man like him, who ostracized her from the beginning, could believe in her? It made her rethink her life.  
   
But if he believed that she was destined for something greater, she owed it to him, to them, to all of the world to press on. She couldn't lose hope now.

And she couldn't allow anyone else to lose hope either.  
   
She would stop as often as she could, to allow the others to rest, but not for as long as she would've liked, for they needed to reach the castle as soon as possible. Skyhold, it was called. They needed its shelter from the cold, needed strong stone walls to safeguard them, should a dragon or any under Corypheus' command try to breach their numbers, numbers that dwindled.  
   
Though Bri wondered if the 'soonvar', as Alduin called him, would actually return. Or if he was already long gone, plotting, devising something or other to eventually send their way. Some plan of action to dispose of the man that intimidated him so.  
   
She found the dark haired man that followed her closely as they traveled...to be quite interesting. She could not place his origin, his name, the place called Nirn that he spoke of, or his language. There was nothing familiar about it.  
   
She'd studied plenty of the various provinces of Thedas. The Imperium, Orlais, Ferelden, Antiva, and Nevarra she was most familiar with. Studied their maps, and their history, but perhaps she should have made herself more familiar without outlying lands, for she, for the life of her, had no idea where Alduin was from. Though he seemed...other worldly.  
   
Human, in appearance, yes, but...not like humans in Thedas. Very...primal. An Avvar, perhaps? He certainly had the physical strength of one. Or...was he simply a madman? For surely this place called Nirn didn't exist. Of course, she'd seen firsthand Alduin doing something absolutely _insane_ , so...Maker, was she the mentally deranged for believing him?  
   
Regardless, it seemed that they both had a destiny that would intertwine, courtesy of the powers that be.  
   
Though wherever he was from, it must've been far removed from Thedosian culture and custom. Some place far away, where such magic that he used was possible to learn. Such... _strange_ power.

She'd seen mages call upon lightning, and knew there was much more to magic than simply what Circle mages were thought, but she'd never known a mage to do what Alduin did. The only person in Thedas who might possibly _outdo_ his incredible display was Corypheus himself maybe, having been given, or having _stolen_ , ancient elven magic that shouldn't even be possible in this day and age, and using it to rip apart the Veil. But as to how Alduin could possibly harness the sky and cause it to fall, to shake the very earth beneath her feet, with only his voice, she had no explanation.  
   
She glanced back to see he was no longer in step with her, about twenty feet back, as she walked beside Solas. Instead, Alduin was off to the right of the group. Engaging in conversation with Iron Bull, of all people. She could only wonder what they were talking about. Hope and pray they wouldn't kill each other. She turned back to the path ahead and sighed.  
   
"Something still troubles you, I see," piped up Solas, who had been silent for the last hour. "Care to relent your concerns?" he smiled a little. She chuckled.  
   
"There are so many of them. I'm afraid once I start, I wouldn't be able to close my mouth." She kicked snow with her boot. "Tell me more of this...dragon in the storm, Solas." she glanced at him. "Some sort of 'second coming', or do you refer to the Archdemon? What sort of euphemism is 'the stars falling'? What does it mean?"

Solas blinked, and then regarded her for a second. "Oh," he said finally. "You thought that was a metaphor."

"Isn't it?"  
   
"Ah, no," he said. "I meant that quite literally."

"Do elaborate," she requested, and, oddly, he glanced back at the group that followed them as if he were making sure no one was listening.

"Do you remember when we were at Haven and I told you I thought I saw a dragon?" he asked, and she nodded. "It was not in jest, Herald. It was truth. I was most serious. I did see one. It was too far to tell for certain, but I know I saw stars falling from the sky, just as they did at Haven, after Corypheus' pet appeared. Among those falling stars, there was a dragon that fell out of the sky. But, I don't think it was Corypheus' dragon, I'm afraid."  
   
"A second dragon then?" she asked, and he nodded. "There wasn't a second dragon at Haven, Solas. Only the Archdemon." She suddenly laughed. "I think you're tired." She looked over at him. "I think you're more troubled than me."

He chuckled a little. "Perhaps. But dont you think it an odd coincidence that a firestorm appeared out of nowhere?"

"Well, of course I think it odd, who wouldn't? Magical storms with burning rocks? Why and whatever for would that happen? That's not normal, Solas."

"But you don't think strange that such a thing could occur bringing a dragon with it, and then suddenly Alduin appears the very next occurrence? I think the two things might be connected somehow."

"Interesting," she remarked offhand.  
   
Solas said nothing to that, only stared at the snow ahead of them as they walked. But after a time, he asked, "So...you still cannot remember what caused it? The avalanche? The stars...'falling'?"  
   
She shook her head. "No, I'm afraid I don't," she lied.

* * *

Alduin approached the horned giant and walked beside him for a moment, ignoring the tinge of discomfort in his side. The night before, Brii had told him that he should try not to jar his side, less it come open again, and she'd have to stitch him shut once more.  
   
After getting over the level of concern that Brii showed for his wound, and past the wonderment that she shared this concern for everyone there...or, simply, the fact that she showed concern, in general...Alduin had only nodded his head, heading instruction, and kept silent for the rest of the journey. But the horned giant, Iron Bull, was still visibly irratated, judging by his clenching jaw, and furrowed brow.  
   
Expressions that Alduin found interesting, and believed he was the cause of.  
   
"Come to gloat?" Iron Bull asked him, without looking, and in turn, Alduin did not bother to look at the face of the sivaas.  
   
"No," he answered. "Krosis."  
   
"Huh?" Iron Bull glanced at him.  
   
"Apologies," he said in the mortal tongue. "It would not bode well to make an enemy of one who also serves the Herald," he said.  
   
"No need for that really," said the giant. "In fact, I'm...sort of impressed. Can't remember the last time someone put me on the ground. From one warrior to another, I salute. Alduin, is it?"  
   
The dragon nodded. The giant showed humility, and complimented. Interesting.  
   
"So, do all that serve the Herald share your esteem, Iron Bull?" he asked him. The giant shrugged.  
   
"Have to ask them. You know, technically we don't...serve the Herald. I mean, we're her allies yes, but...we serve the Inquisition. Well, most do. I get paid to be here." He chuckled. "Not that I wouldn't gladly pledge my allegiance to her. She's a good woman. Good heart. Too soft though." He cleared his throat. "Just between you and me, of course."  
   
"Too soft. In what way?" Alduin asked, ignoring every part of the giant's words but that. The tone in which he said it sounded like _ahzid_ , bitterness. An insult on his master.  
   
But Iron Bull's uncovered eye sparkled mischeviously.  
   
"All the right ways," he purred, and Alduin scowled. "But she's no fighter. Anyone at Haven could see that. Kinda figured that's why you showed up. And here I thought I was her body guard. But...it seems everyone is. Guess it shouldn't surprise me. She's nobility. Expected to get married and have pretty babies, or become a Chantry Sister, not fight in a war against demons."  
   
_Demons_?  
   
Alduin leaned his head to the side, considering the giant's words. Married, children, chantry sister, a...priestess, he assumed? All things he had no knowledge of, things that never concerned him. But things that did not pretain to battle he supposed. Though he found the sivaas' use of the word 'demon' most intriguing.  
   
"Which is why she needs an army behind her. People loyal to her, to a fault," Alduin mused.  
   
"Or a better weapon. She's no good as an archer," he chuckled.  
   
Alduin did not respond to the giant's statement, but instead looked ahead once more to watch Brii walk along side the small Mer, named...Solaas, he learned. She liked him. Alduin was not sure what to make of that. He could see her face brighten when she spoke to him. Kindred to him. She must not have been able to smell this Solaas like he could. Smell the peculiar scent that eminated from him, a familiar scent.  
   
Ancient... _peculiar_ magic he possessed. An aura of something he remembered fleetingly entering his nostrils before, perhaps eons ago. He couldn't place the reason however. And could do nothing about the tingle that stretched down his spine at the sight of the elf. If allowed to do so, he would kill the creature then and there, without question, but he doubted his new master would approve of such an act.  
   
If she was so gentle in nature, she probably wouldn't comprehend the reason for such an action.  
   
A better weapon, the sivaas suggested? Perhaps. Or...a better teacher she required. 'Twas not enough for heroes such as the Tongues that rallied with the Dragonborn to have the Thu'um, but they needed to be taught how to wield it. Perhaps Brii also needed refinement of skill. What better teacher than an ancient dragon?  
   
He was about to approach her, seek tinvaak with her, but the elf motioned for her to climb the steep hill ahead of them, and watched as she cantered ahead, and then stopped, seeing something in the distance. By the look of it, they had reached their destination.  
   
"Alright, I'll make you a deal," Iron Bull said beside him. Alduin turned to face him. "Instead of an apology, how about a rematch when we get to this Skyhold?" The giant grinned.  
   
"Don't get angry when you lose," Alduin jeered coldly, and Iron Bull only laughed.

_Hmm, I like this Iron Bull_ , he thought.


	10. Eye of the Storm

**Miin Se Faal Strun-Eye of the Storm**

The Inquisition, or what remained of it, gathered at Skyhold, the vast, but deshiveled fortress that it was. It desperately needed repairs, but it would suffice, and immediately Josephine and Leliana worked to get word to their allies on foreign soil, requesting the necessary supplies, in return for whatever favors they could provide. Proclaimed the Inquisition still lived. And would one day thrive, hopefully, but...it needed a leader.  
   
Brianna walked up the steps to the keep with Cassandra, as Josephine and Leliana walked out of it, having inspected the interior. Bri glanced down to see people settling down, and resting their aching bones after their long journey.  
   
Immediately, the healers tended to the wounded, but the rest of the soldiers drew their gazes towards the Herald of Andraste, who had closed the Breach, healed the sky, and returned to them from certain death at Haven, after having so willingly gone out to face a dragon so that they could escape to safety. A crowd formed soon enough. They looked to her for hope, not having known how she cowered before the Elder One in tears.  
   
But there she was, with the offer to be named Inquisitor, as Cassandra coined it, 'the one who was leading the Inquisition already.' Bri sighed. She had dreaded this, the moment Cassandra started speaking.  
   
"What makes you think I'm fit to lead them, Cassandra?" she asked halfway up the steps. "I'm no soldier, and I'll be damned if I know the first thing about leading an army."  
   
Cassandra raised a brow, never having heard Bri speak so sourly before. But she didn't know how nervous, how constrained she was inside.  
   
"You won't be alone, Herald. We will be at your side, as we have been. But these people _need_ a leader, to guide them. They look to you. As do I," the Seeker admitted abashedly. They had come a long way from butting heads when she had her in chains, hadn't they? If she looked to Bri with such pride, like she did now.  
   
"Even after all the trouble I've caused you, Seeker?" Bri smirked. Cassandra nodded, and smiled.  
   
"Even after. You didn't cause the troubles in the sky, you healed it. That's enough to overpower any trepidation."  
   
Bri accepted that answer... _and_ accepted the leadership, much as she didn't want to. As she held aloft the ornate sword in her hands, and the crowd before her cheered, and Cullen even gave her an encouraging smile...she could see Alduin, away from the crowd of people, leaned against the stone wall behind him, a scowl on his face, but he bowed his head to her. He'd been sent to serve her. Was it a sign then? Was she meant to take her place as Inquisitor?  
   
Why, then, did she still feel so powerless? Why, when she had been a coward, did the Maker bless her as Herald of Andraste (if it were true that she was indeed saved by Andraste) and then send someone to pledge himself to her? Why, as strong as he was, it ought to be Alduin holding up that sword. She had lied when she said she didn't know who caused the stars to fall from the heavens. It was him. She was certain of it. A man that could possess such power...was no normal man, in her opinion.  
   
_To give you strength where you have none, thuri..._  
   
Was that it then?...The idea repeated itself as she listened to Josephine, Cullen, and Leliana inside the castle, remarking on where they could start first, having a million ideas, only waiting for the order of their new leader. Was she the coward that needed a warrior to come and save her? So that he could keep her from getting herself killed? This vexed her, only raising more concerns than actually comforting her.  
   
As she was in thought, a scout entered the keep to inform that Varric had returned, bringing company with him. They could only imagine who it could be, and according to Leliana, if it was who she thought it was, Cassandra was going to be very cross.  
   
...She found Cullen at the bottom of the steps, and after his words of encouragement, felt a little better, but not by much. She made a mental note to speak to him later, and perhaps be honest with him about her doubts and fears...and then changed her mind. He didn't need to know. Though Sera did. The little elf was frantic, and Bri had never seen her this way before.  
   
So caddy, so sure of herself most days, since joining the Inquisition, happily socking things full of arrows. But today it was different because Corypheus was 'a whole other level of bad.' So when Bri begrudgingly admitted she was scared too, it made Sera feel a little better. But not Bri. She was supposed to be 'The Herald', was she not? Not a frightened little girl. She was the hero that 'glowed'.  
   
Warden Blackwall was perfectly content to remark on how, given the necessary repairs to the keep, nothing would get past them, demon, dragon, or otherwise. Enchantress Vivienne was disturbed by Cole, claiming him to be a demon, and it took some reassurance on Bri's part that he was no such thing. Apparently he'd been hanging around the wounded soldiers, and people were afraid he meant to possess someone.  
   
But he only wanted to ease their pain. Having a knack for hearing someone's thoughts and feelings of suffering had that effect on him. He knew they were in agony, and he wanted to ease their discomfort, put an end their torture. Was compelled to do such a thing. Believed it to be his purpose. She crouched down next to him, as a man lay dying, and watched as Cole relayed the dying man's thoughts. She pitied them both.  
   
And Varric brought the Champion of Kirkwall. Who only furthered to vex Bri when she informed that Corypheus was an old foe that she was very familiar with. Marian Hawke made sure to mention she had killed Corypheus before, and if it were the very same, it seemed he was harder to kill than they initially thought. Also made sure to mention that the Wardens, who had gone missing, were gathering in the west, in Orlais, and they were planning something.  
   
She had a contact in Crestwood that could give them more information, and Bri agreed to meet with them in Crestwood when she was able, then dismissed herself from their company. Aiming to find a quiet place, away from everyone, to think. She didn't understand how people like Marian could be so confident, even in the face of such peril. Bri would give anything for an ounce of that.

She found a bit of refuge up on a section of the battlements above what would later be the armory, able to gather her thoughts for a moment.

Only to be disturbed once more.

* * *

Alduin watched the Herald from afar, as she made her way through the castle, giving council to some of her followers. He found it intriguing that there was a boy among them who could hear what people were thinking. He found others less interesting, mostly people who relented trivial things to Brii; fears, doubts, promises, words of wisdom somewhat lacking, in the dragon's opinion.  
   
He watched as she stood on the battlements in council with someone new, whom Alduin had yet to see among them, and then watched as Brii left, disturbed, to wander off alone. She did not send for him, but for whatever reason, he felt as if he should follow her, and see what disturbed her.  
   
He eased himself up the steps, feeling the tug at his side that was Brii's stitching. It was already becoming quite annoying, and he wanted it gone. But what concerned him more than the wound was Brii herself. She paced, and her expression was a confusing one. He didn't know the meaning of it. It was new. She stopped, and froze, when she saw him approach. Wary of him, perhaps frightened, and he didn't know why.  
   
He slowly stepped toward her, hands behind his back, ready to serve, if he could.  
   
"Something troubles you, _thuri_ ," he said to her, and watched her shoulders slump before she sighed.  
   
"You know, maybe it makes sense," she muttered, more to herself than him. "I couldn't tell the others. They weren't there. They didn't see it. But you did. You _were_ there. You would understand."  
   
She stared at the ground as she spoke, and Alduin leaned his head to the side, interested in what he supposedly saw, wrinkling his brow. She walked over to the wall beside them and leaned against it, looking down at the people below.  
   
"They named me Inquisitor. If I wasn't their leader before, I am now. I'm supposed to be strong for them. They look to me for hope, and guidance. But they shouldn't."  
   
"Why not?" Alduin couldn't help but ask, for he was curious.  
   
She sighed.  
   
"Because I'm not what they think I am...I've been nothing but a coward. It was not my own wit that got me this far, it was theirs. It was yours. You were there. If not for you, Corypheus would have killed me. I wasn't brave...I cowered before him like a child...And you." She looked up at him, eye glittering, becoming tearful as she spoke. "It _was_ you, wasn't it? That made the stars fall from the sky?...You stood up to the Elder One, not me. It should be you they praise."  
   
True, he saved her from certain death, but he knew next to nothing of this world and its _Inquisition_ , as it was called. But she did. She pushed herself away from the wall she leaned on and started to pace once more. "I can't lead them. I can't even fight," she said as she paced. "I'm not a soldier...I'm...I'm just..." She groaned in aggravation. He resisted the sudden urge to roll his eyes at her frustration, as he battled his own.  
   
"You were chosen to lead because of your importance, were you not?" he asked, then he shrugged. "Let _them_ fight."  
   
"I won't always be able to," she argued. She held up her hand. "No one can use this magic but me, you know."  
   
"You can _learn_ to fight then," Alduin suggested, still slightly bewildered by her troubles. She was making a _strunmah_ out of such an insignificant ordeal.  
   
"Hmph," she huffed exasperatingly. "I've been trying, but...I can't seem to do anything right. I'll certainly ruin this, and have this place burnt to the ground, same as Haven, soon enough, mark my words." She scoffed in a irritated manner. Then she held out her hand again, where the 'anchor' emanated from her palm. "This...is my _only_ usefulness."  
   
Her pacing was making him nauseous, so he grabbed her arm, and it startled her.  
   
Alduin let a small puff of air out his snout.  
   
"Regardless, Qolaas, I follow you. If you cannot fight, then I will fight for you," he assured. She snorted.  
   
"Yes, is that why your Maker sent you? To fight my battles for me?" she grunted, then sighed. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me. I owe my life to you." she hung her head. "How...how are you feeling?" she asked quietly, looking at his side.  
   
How was he feeling?...He didn't understand the question. The idea was utter nonsense in his mind. That he should feel anything at all. She looked at his wound...what did she mean? Why not simply ask about what she was truly concerned for?... _Oh_. It took him a moment, but he finally understood.  
   
"I am...well. _Dovah kogaan_." he said with a nod. "Gratitude, for your aid."  
   
"Good to hear. And you're welcome. It would be a good idea to find a place to rest. This castle did not come without some small accommodation left behind. I'm sure there's a bed somewhere in one of it's rooms." She looked up, her eyes meeting his.  
   
"I do not need rest," he attested. No, he needed to be at her side. She needn't be defenseless. She needn't feel...well, whatever it was she was feeling. She folded her arms, leaning her head to the side, looking up at him.  
   
"If...if I _ordered_ you to rest, would you do it?" she asked. He nodded.  
   
"Of course," he answered her. "I will follow your orders...but I do not need rest," he persisted quite bluntly. In truth, he did not want to sleep. And have more dreams, if he did. Was she really going to make him sleep? Nightmarish of a thought.  
   
"Figures," her lip curled a little at the corner of her mouth. "Or...you could just say...'no'."  
   
"I cannot," he corrected.  
   
"You can't say 'no' to me? Not even once? Not even a little?"  
   
He shook his head.  
   
"Why?" she demanded, stepping closer to him. "Why can you not say 'no'?...Why must you obey my orders? Why must you serve the Herald?"  
   
"Because you need me," he answered plainly.  
   
For some reason, he didn't know why, she froze, again. And stared at him for a moment. Looking into his eyes as if she could see something there...perhaps see his true from under the surface...Could she? Could she see what he had been, before he was cursed in this form?...Surely not...but...What about the boy, that could peer into the mind of another...had he said something to her?  
   
Perhaps Alduin should speak to him then. She did seem to have some concerns of the use of his Thu'um against the sunvaar. Concerns she was afraid to speak to her followers of, apparently. She feared his power, when she need not. He had no intention of harming her.  
   
She looked away. "My blacksmith can repair you armor," she said suddenly. "Perhaps make some improvements to it. I daresay the only reason you survived your injury was because of that armor...but he can ensure that it doesn't happen again. His name's Herrit. He's made himself comfortable in the undercroft, below the main hall of the keep."  
   
She nodded a little and walked away, rather briskly, as if she detested his company. Such a strange girl. If she feared him, or wanted him gone, why not say so? She need only say the words...He didn't know what to do with himself. Technically she hadn't _ordered_ that he have his armor repaired, but...  
   
She was going to be difficult wasn't she? She was going to try as hard as she could to avoid ordering him about, because...well, probably because she could. As simple as that. Mortals were always in defiance of any notion set before them. It was their way. To rebel. And how odd it was, that he was the servant, and she the master...yet _she_ was the one who rebelled against her purpose...Was that why they were paired with one another? Because both rebelled against their fate?  
   
He watched her walk past a rather short man, who nodded in passing, turned back to look at her, wrinkling his brow at her curt behavior, then continued walking, headed towards Alduin. There was no other there. So unless the very short person walking towards him meant to go past him to one of the doors beyond, he meant to talk to _Alduin_. He strode up to him, looking him over.  
   
"So...you must be him," said the short man up to him.  
   
"'Him'?" Alduin repeated.  
   
"The man who braved a blizzard for two days to practically bring Brianna back from the dead. So, you're him?" he asked.  
   
"Alduin," he introduced himself, slightly less adverse to making himself known to those who followed Brii, as this world obviously didn't recognize the title that accompanied his name.  
   
"Varric," the man introduced, holding up his hand.  
   
For Alduin to shake it? A...friendly gesture? Yes, this was what mortals did in greeting. For dragons it was fire. Alduin reluctantly shook his hand. This...Varric proceeded to lean against the stone wall, looking down at something, and Alduin noticed it was Brii, stopping briefly to speak to the horned sivaas for a moment, before ducking behind a building to an unoccupied part of the courtyard.  
   
After which she proceeded to unstrap her bow and angrily fire arrows into a wooden beam. She missed every time. And with every miss, she grew more irritated. Alduin could see even from this distance. Indeed, she was lacking in talent as an archer. He too leaned against the wall to watch her.  
   
"Poor kid," Varric muttered. "I wield a crossbow myself. Tried helping her out, give her a few tips. Nothing's helped. She's...she's not a fighter, you know?"  
   
"The Iron Bull said the same thing," Alduin mused, wondering _why_ it was such a concern that she improve her combat skills when she had him...But then again, she had rather shirked the idea of him 'fighting her battles for her', as she had put it. A proud creature the Herald was, apparently. He could relate.  
   
"Oh but she's a brave one, though," said Varric. "Before you showed up, she offered herself up to the dragon so that the rest of us could escape through the Chantry."  
   
So, the Chantry was the temple they hid in?...Varric said she was brave. Intriguing. Not moments ago, Brii claimed she was a coward. Which one was correct then? Did it much matter?  
   
"But hey, who cares if she's any good with a bow, really?" the short man asked. "She still went out there and threw herself at everything the Breach spat out at us. And the way she is with people. I mean, the woman's got a heart the size of the Empress' palace. If not bigger," he chuckled. "I'm just glad it was her that ended up with that mark and not some crazed power hungry lunatic, know what I mean?" Again, he chuckled. "She reminds me so much of Marian sometimes it isn't funny. They're a lot alike."  
   
"Who is Marian?" Alduin asked, glazing over the rest of the tirade about the Herald. Varric burst with laughter.  
   
"You've never heard of the Champion of Kirkwall?" he asked. "Where are you from?"  
   
Alduin growled a little at the question.  
   
"Alright, alright, I get it. No personal questions. You and Blackwall have that strong silent thing down to an artform." He sighed. "It's just...well, she's pretty famous. I even wrote a book about her. Marian Hawke is one of my oldest and dearest friends. She fought Corypheus before. Soon as I heard the name I told her about our little bat with him at Haven...Man, the Seeker's gonna kill me. I told her I didn't know where Hawke was. Hell, who knows if it would've made a difference anyway...Well, anywho, I think Brianna's a pretty good pick for Inquisitor, just...not what you picture when you think of a _military_ leader. She's a lady, wears dresses, goes to parties, doesn't drink and fight like us dogs, I guess."  
   
Alduin glanced at his side for a moment. "She's a healer," he stated. "Not a warrior. She is the calm, the eye within the otherwise volatile storm. She was not chosen for her skill in battle. But...this world will not mend unless she can fight for it. For only through war, will it rise from the ashes. And her actions will decide if it is her...or the _sunvaar_ , Corypheus, that rises with it."  
   
Varric hummed in favor of his words beside him, still watching Brii as she riddled the dirt beside the target with arrows.  
   
"Interesting analogy," he said. "So...forgive me for prying, but, how do you know Brianna?"

"I was sent to serve her."

"Okay, but why? Friend of the family or something?"  
   
Alduin shook his head. " _Rek los fin miin, nunon zu'u los faal strun_."  
   
"Huh?" Varric wrinkled his brow. Alduin rolled his eyes. Truly, was there no one in this land that spoke his tongue?   
   
"She is the eye. But I am the storm. I gather you are now comprehensive of my meaning, little man?" he said coldly in the mortal tongue, before walking away.   
   
"Oh the money I could make from writing stories about this guy," he heard Varric mumble before he was completely out of earshot.

Alduin snorted a little. _If only he heard the tales they sing of me back home_ , he thought.  _The little man would not be so eager to share words with me then._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> thuri-'my master'  
> strunmah-'mountain'  
> dovah kogaan-'my thanks'


End file.
